Gilrond's Children
by Bess the Bard
Summary: Elrohir faces a new threat to Lorien and a love that will change his fate forever
1. I Leave my Heart in Imladris

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's characters and receive only joy from them, not profit. Original fictional characters and any mistakes are mine alone.  
  
Description: Drama, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy. Story takes starts in the summer of 2760 (Third Age) and continues for the next year-about 350 years before the War of the Ring. Pairing: Elrohir/OFC. No slash. Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.  
  
Acknowledgements: Many warm thanks to my beta extraordinaire, Antoinette, for her wonderful comments and encouragement. This lady knows her stuff! Also to Lady Anne (she knows who she is), for her unstinting support and great suggestions.  
  
"A storyteller is a bit of a seer, a bit of a doer and a bit of a liar."- Bess the Bard  
  
  
  
Gilrond's Children  
  
Prologue  
  
The book was a work of art. The covers, front and back, were gold with inlays of pearl, lapis lazuli and truesilver, also called mithril. Graceful designs of trees, birds and fountains were worked in the precious metal. The pages themselves were breathtaking in their splendor. At the beginning of each page and in the margins were tiny masterpieces, vividly painted scenes of beautiful cities, mighty warriors and graceful maidens. Such craftsmanship as went into the making of the book was lost in the mists of ages past. The magnificence of the tome was in keeping with the heroic and tragic tales told in its pages. Though fewer and fewer could read the language of its authors, the book was treasured and revered. And few indeed were those that knew that it was not a book of myth, but a true account of times nearly forgotten.  
  
A dark figure appeared in the vaulted chamber that lay silent in the empty watches of the night. The figure moved confidently in the darkness, seeming to need little light. Strong graceful hands lifted the book from the marble pedestal where it was kept in honor. The book was opened and the fingers deftly turned past the pages of battles, quests and histories. All the way to the back cover of the book, which seemed curiously thick. A carving of two entwined swans was picked out in gold leaf on the inside back cover.  
  
The hands gave a strange twist to the wing of one of the swans and a secret compartment opened. The opening was about the size of a man's hand. In the cavity was a small pouch, the leather worn but still supple. Inside was an exquisitely worked brooch of mithril in the shape of two entwined swans, akin to that in the book. It glowed faintly in the dim chamber. The compartment was closed and the brooch disappeared into the recesses of a dark cloak.  
  
Only the silent figure in the chamber knew that the splendidly wrought volume did not tell all the history, good and evil, of those who went before. For of one evil no story was told, and no song was devised by the creators of the book. Those who had lived through what happened kept it long a secret. They talked of it only in whispers and secret councils amongst themselves. And in the silence, the secret evil turned shame into despair, guilt into bitterness and grief into hatred. So the evil had lived on in the dark, locked away in the heart of that long-forgotten world. Pondering these thoughts, the dark figure replaced the book on its pedestal and silently slipped from the room, vanishing into shadow.  
  
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In the twilight of the Third Age, there were still some Elves left in Middle Earth. Many had fled to the Undying Lands in the West and continued to do so, taking ship from the Gray Havens. So those that lingered gathered in what islands of grace and beauty remained to them. Rivendell; Mithlond and the Falas; Lothlorien and Mirkwood near the Lonely Mountain. There was still some congress between these enclaves, especially between Rivendell, refuge of Elrond, and Lothlorien, home of Galadriel and Celeborn.  
  
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It was late spring and the melting snows of the Misty Mountains swelled the streams that ran through the valley of Imladris. Pine and beech trees on the rugged hillsides gave off rich pungent scents of rebirth. Fair and tall, the brothers Celemedril and Eömeril prepared horse and pack for their journey back to their home in the Golden Wood. They had come to escort their sister, Eloëssa, on her return trip. She had been visiting the house of Elrond Half-Elven for some time.  
  
She came often to Rivendell and on this visit her heart had begun to yearn for Elrond's son, Elrohir. But though he was noble and generous to her, she did not receive the response she sought. So it was that she was not completely sorry to hear the summons her brothers brought from the Lady Galadriel. It seemed the Lady of the Golden Wood missed the delightful singing and exquisite needlework of her favorite handmaiden Eloessa, daughter of Gilrond.  
  
In her spacious chamber inside the large house, Eloessa prepared at last to leave Rivendell. Before she left, she presented her friend Arwen with a wall hanging of finest silk on which was depicted in both painting and needlework a poignant rendering of Rivendell in spring. It captured the wistful beauty of her home that Arwen always perceived when she came back to Imladris after a long time away. Arwen had described her feelings vividly one night in the Hall of Elrond. Eloessa listened and had tried to evoke that feeling in the creation for her friend.  
  
Arwen spread it out on the bed to see it better. "Thank you, Eloessa. It's magnificent! You honor me with such a gift. I'll hang it where all may see it. They will believe that Meriel Serinde, the Broideress of Valinor, has come to Middle Earth."  
  
Eloessa blushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you like it. I wanted to make you something special. You and Lord Elrond always make me feel so at home here." Eloessa looked out at the pristine hidden valley that beckoned from her window. "I almost hate to leave."  
  
Arwen stood and embraced her friend, kissing her on the cheek. "I will miss you so. Having you here has reminded me of our youngest days running through the Golden Wood, hiding from our brothers."  
  
Arwen stepped back from Eloessa, eyes bright with amusement. "I remember the time I dared you and you climbed up in that tree and jumped on Elrohir to knock him off his horse as he rode beneath."  
  
Arwen laughed at the memory. "He had been bragging for days what a woodsman he was, with senses like a hawk, unable to be taken by surprise. And then you came flying out of the tree, howling like a warg, and knocked him flat on his, er, wounded pride. He looked he was going to explode. I never laughed so hard in my life."  
  
"You laughed so hard you fell out of the tree, too." Eloessa reminded her friend.  
  
She grinned. "His horse ran off, so Elrohir chased us all the way back to Caras Galadhron. We ran shrieking up to the gates and the guard started sounding the alarm on his horn, and archers appeared at the walls. Lord Celeborn was at the gate, too, and came running out with his sword drawn. I thought he was going to slice us all into small pieces, he was so angry."  
  
The friends laughed even harder at that, holding on to each other in their mirth. In the end, Lord Celeborn had made all three miscreants serve at meals in the officers' barracks for a month as punishment.  
  
"Oh, it is good to laugh, Arwen. My soul feels lighter than it has in days. Thank you." Eloessa said, flurries of laughter continuing to erupt from her for several more moments.  
  
Arwen sighed. "I wish you did not have to leave now. It will be many months, maybe even years before I may journey back to Lothlorien. My father requires my assistance in his governance while my brothers are away so much."  
  
She gave a sideways look at her friend. "I was surprised Elrohir stayed as long as he has on this visit. I wonder what has kept him at home?" she mused in an innocent tone.  
  
Eloessa looked sharply at Arwen. "We both know it was not me that kept him here. He already made that perfectly clear." She busied herself putting clothes and other items into a small wooden chest.  
  
Arwen shook her head. She could not explain why her brother had spurned Eloessa's confession of love, when Arwen firmly believed he returned the feeling in full measure. Elrohir had cannily avoided his sister in the last few days, though she was determined to corner him and get a full explanation. But Arwen accepted Eloessa's silent plea for now and left the tender subject alone.  
  
The dark haired Elf folded beautifully embroidered silks and put them in the chest. She knew they were her friend's handiwork. "It is no mystery why Lady Galadriel wants you back. She said many times she has never seen anyone possess the talent and imagination with needle and thread that you do. The quality of her work must be suffering without you there." She teased Eloessa.  
  
Eloessa said simply. "The other women are as capable as I of doing the work. But I really want to go home, Arwen. I need to be at home." Arwen looked at her friend and nodded in understanding. She picked up some of Eloessa's belongings and left to deliver them to the servant waiting in the hall.  
  
Once Arwen was gone, Eloessa opened a carved box and withdrew the object nestled within. A faint light seemed to issue from it. She cupped it in her hand a moment and closed her eyes as if in memory or blessing. Then she quickly slipped the item into a small pouch and followed her friend out of the room. She could delay her departure no longer.  
  
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The Lady Galadriel had warned Eloessa's brothers to leave Rivendell before the advent of laer, the summer season. There had been word of Men of Dunland, on the road in the service of the growing Darkness, and news of Orcs in the passes of the Misty Mountains, making them unsafe for travelers. Summer was nearly upon them, so the two brothers were trying to prepare for the return journey, but with mixed success.  
  
"Do you know what that vixen has done now?" The voice of male outrage reached Eomeril in the stable of Rivendell. Eomeril grinned at this description of his sister as he swung the light Elven saddle onto his horse. But he quickly smoothed his expression into one of brotherly commiseration when Celemedril stalked through the stable door.  
  
His brother fumed, "She just sent a messenger, 'oh, she could not possibly come herself, my lord'; to present me with four more bags and chests she simply cannot leave behind! The woman has already laden that poor packhorse with so much baggage it will take a wizard to get it over the Mountains. If we have a single problem, she will be the first thing I leave behind on the trail!" Celemedril kicked the stall door nearest to him in frustration, causing the great bay stallion within to trumpet his disapproval and kick out at the walls of the stable.  
  
"Compose yourself, brother," Eomeril advised and went to calm the horse. "That is Lord Elrond's favorite mount. If he injures himself due to your display of temper, it will be long indeed before we are allowed to return to Rivendell."  
  
Celemedril gave a rueful laugh and stepped into the stallion's stall behind his brother to assure himself the animal had taken no harm. "You speak the truth there. I am fairly certain Elrond favors Arwen over this beast, but I'm not sure that his sons rate so high." Both brothers laughed at that, quietly, remembering the high-strung stallion. They knew Elrond was a kind and indulgent father to all his children, even as he was accounted one of the wisest of all the Elves.  
  
Eomeril said with a smile, "Eloessa certainly rates Elrohir highly. I am amazed a son of Elrond can be so thick as to not realize her feelings. Her eyes follow every move he makes. She finds excuses to be in the same room with him. It would be embarrassing if Elrohir actually appeared to notice. If Elladan were here, he would give his brother no peace about such an ardent admirer."  
  
Eomeril shook his head in exasperation. "Every song she sings is a love ballad. Last week she wouldn't even sing my favorite song, about the War of Wrath. She said Elrohir appreciates songs of gentleness and beauty, not the clash of battle! Well, I predict she will cause him to discover he loves her any day now. Then she will graciously inform you that you may now consent to the marriage!" Eomeril had faith in his sister's ability to get what she wanted, being well acquainted with her determination, or stubbornness, as he preferred to call it.  
  
Celemedril's expression turned somber. "Eloessa came to me two days ago. I think she had actually been weeping. I haven't seen her cry since we were children." The hurt in his sister's eyes had struck him unexpectedly deep. He had determined to do what he could to make those eyes flash with laughter or indignation at brotherly barbs once again.  
  
"She said she confessed her feelings to Elrohir and he told her he could not give his heart freely." Celemedril revealed. "I went to him myself to see if he had formed another attachment or had objections to the match. He said he loves no other and has no objection to the match. But he was adamant that he could not accept the love or the hand of Eloessa, and would give no reason why."  
  
Celemedril finished bitterly. "I begin to wonder if the son of Elrond, grandson of Galadriel, believes our sister is too far beneath him for marriage."  
  
Eomeril was silent. He had blithely thought that once Elrohir was made aware of the depth of Eloessa's feelings, he would at least find himself fond of her. Elrohir was a great friend of many years, back to the days when the children of Elrond and Gilrond all resided together in the great house at the top of the mallorn tree in Lorien. Eomeril had been looking forward to having Elrohir as a brother by marriage. He had elaborate plans for how the two of them would drive Celemedril to distraction for years to come.  
  
He finally said thoughtfully. "I cannot believe the Elrohir we know would think our sister, the daughter of Gilrond and Evasta of Lorien, is unfit to be his wife. There must be another reason."  
  
Eomeril chided his brother. "A man can with honor refuse a match when he believes he cannot return the affection of his future wife. An unbalanced union with all the love on one side and mere respect on the other would be miserable for both. I know you want better than that for Eloessa."  
  
"Oh, but he does want her," Celemedril said with an unaccustomed sneer in his voice. "Once I had spoken to him I began to watch him closely. When she is not looking at him and he thinks he is unobserved, there is a hunger for her in his eyes that nearly consumes him. I know Eloessa would never consent, but I think he would bed her without vows quickly enough. Yet he will not tie himself to her in marriage. The only reason for that can be his pride of house."  
  
Eomeril shook his head. He knew that pride in his heritage was something Celemedril was passionate about. He wondered if it could be coloring his brother's views of Elrohir's refusal to wed their sister. After all, Celemedril was the eldest brother and the most proud of his Noldorin and Sindarin heritage. Their father Gilrond had followed the Lady Galadriel and her brothers out of the Utter West and had looked upon the light of the Silmarils, which contained the light of the Trees of the Valar. Their mother was a Sindarin Elf of great fairness, Evasta of the Glade.  
  
Evasta and Gilrond labored long and faithfully in the service of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They had been rewarded with the love and honor of the rulers of Lorien. The children of Evasta and Gilrond were favorites of Galadriel, and fostered in her own household. There they played freely with Galadriel's own grandchildren, the offspring of Elrond and Celebrian.  
  
Eomeril remembered his family life as carefree and happy in the Golden Wood. The three siblings knew they were the focus of wise and loving parents long after they became adults themselves.  
  
Yet when the Dwarves awakened the ancient evil in Moria and fled the Misty Mountains before its wrath, many Elves of Lothlorien felt that the Dark Power would never be overcome in Middle Earth and determined to leave its shores. Evasta and Gilrond did not cower before Durin's Bane, but they saw that the age of the First Children of Iluvitar was passing. Gilrond yearned to see Tol Eressea, the Lonely Isle, once more. After taking much counsel with Galadriel and Celeborn, and between themselves, Evasta and Gilrond reached their decision. They commended the younger children, Eömeril and Eloëssa, to the care of their elder brother. Then with much sadness but little regret, they took ship from the Grey Havens and were never again seen in Middle Earth.  
  
Now, Eomeril watched Celemedril tighten the belly strap on his horse with unnecessary force. The horse's breath exploded from him and the animal turned an accusing gaze on his master. Celemedril rubbed his mount's nose apologetically and loosened the strap a bit. Eomeril thought his brother might be better off alone for awhile.  
  
"I think I shall go see if I can get all Eloessa's luggage stowed away on that pack horse. If she won't bother to attend to it herself, I cannot be blamed if some things just happen to get left behind, can I?" Eomeril said it in an innocent tone, hoping to tease a grin out of his brother. The brothers would always unite on two matters where it concerned their sister: either to protect her, or more often, to aggravate her.  
  
This time, however, Celemedril did not respond to the jibe. He remained lost in his own thoughts for several minutes. Then he spoke in the silence that had fallen in the stable. "I was warned by Elrond last night about the dangers of the journey over the Mountains, and yet again by Elrohir just this morning. Elrohir acted as if I was the greenest recruit off on his own for the first time."  
  
The brothers' trip to Imladris had been uneventful. They had seen old camps of Orcs in the passes and occasionally heard the howls of their Wargs, but he and Eomeril had encountered no trouble in the Mountains.  
  
Celemedril mocked the son of Elrond's serious manner. "Do not underestimate the Orcs, my friend. Travel only in daylight. Light no fires. Tarry not anywhere this side of the Golden Wood. Let no night go without a constant watch."  
  
Celemedril growled under his breath. "The man apparently thinks I am a low- blooded fool".  
  
Eomeril looked slightly alarmed at the aggressive tone in his brother's voice. "What did you say to him?"  
  
"Why, I thanked him politely, of course. I am my mother's son, after all." But he had kept his own counsel about the journey. His resentment about Elrohir's response to a proposed match had been clear.  
  
A union with the House of Elrond would have been welcome to this proud Elven warrior. Though he had come out of Valinor, Gilrond had been of no royal house and his marriage to Evasta had been a happy but not ambitious one. Celemedril looked higher, for himself and his family.  
  
Eomeril reminded his brother gently, "His warnings are to be expected since his mother was taken by Orcs in the Misty Mountains. You know she was seriously wounded before she was rescued by her sons and healed by Elrond. But you dismiss the warnings of Elrohir as the anxieties of one who, once burned, now fears every candle and cook fire. The dangers he spoke of are real."  
  
The elder brother said irritably. "I am not a fool. I intend to go warily in the Mountains. As long as we are careful there is nothing to fear." He turned back to his horse. "Now finish getting ready so we can leave."  
  
Celemedril spent quite awhile preparing his mount for the journey, double- checking to make sure he had all the needed supplies. He looked over to make sure Eomeril was doing the same and realized his brother was gone.  
  
"It's just like that scapegrace, never here when you need him." He said impatiently. He checked the dark interior of the stable to make sure. Then he looked out into the bright morning sun washing over the courtyard of Elrond's house.  
  
Celemedril moved to stand in the open stable door, watching Eömeril lead their sister's horse, a delicate yet spirited gray mare named Vesta, and the sturdy but woeful-looking pack pony.  
  
"If our sister lingers any longer over her farewells, we will still be here this time tomorrow" Eomeril said cheerfully. "She is still taking her leave over at the house."  
  
Celemedril watched his brother feed the horses sweets he no doubt swiped from the kitchens. "Probably stole them while he kissed the maid he flirted with last night at dinner." Celemedril muttered with affectionate exasperation. "I saw him with her in the Hall this morning, too."  
  
Celemedril knew his brother was deadly with a bow but his nimble fingers plucked harp string with as great a skill as bowstring and his gray eyes lit with laughter at least as often as fatal intent. The lad certainly had won his way into the hearts, and beds of enough women over the Age, the elder brother thought wryly.  
  
Eomeril left family ambitions to his older brother and wandered widely throughout the western lands of Middle Earth, even (to his brother's disdain) visiting Dwarvish-carved cities in Erebor. Celemedril often told Eomeril he should find a proper Elf maiden to settle down with in Lorien and take up a position in the household guard. But, much as he missed having Eomeril at home more often, he knew his brother was not made for such a settled life.  
  
"We have already missed starting before breakfast", Celemedril acknowledged now, stepping out into the courtyard. "Let us see if we can still start before lunch." He strode to the porch of Elrond's house, where Eloëssa still was talking with her many friends. "Sister, your good-byes will be of little use unless we actually leave. Come, we must be off!"  
  
He motioned to Eömeril to bring the mare forward, so Eloëssa was left with little choice but to mount and at last leave Imladris. Celemedril held the reins of the brothers' horses and waited impatiently for his sister.  
  
Eloessa shared the fair hair and coloring of most Elves of Lorien, though her hair was more golden than many. The early summer sunshine illuminated her golden fall of hair so it was almost too fair to look upon, or so it seemed to one particular watcher.  
  
Unshed tears in her eyes, Eloessa looked at Arwen, her childhood confidant. Arwen embraced the heartbroken Lorien Elf. "Do not despair, my friend. Elrohir is a complex man. He feels things deeply and does not show it easily." Arwen said encouragingly.  
  
"You are different." Arwen said. "You know what you want, and how you feel. Then you act on it. You are beautifully open to life and all that may come your way. I think Elrohir envies you that, but admires you, too."  
  
Arwen looked over at her brother who was standing apart from those gathered to say farewell. She whispered in Eloessa's ear, sounding more like a little sister than a dignified Elf lady of over two thousand years, "I will work on him for you. Give him a push in the right direction." Eloessa looked horrified at this, but her friend winked and said "Trust me."  
  
Eloessa shook her head and whispered "Look after him for me."  
  
She turned and walked over to her host. "Farewell, Master Elrond." She bowed to him slightly. "I will take your messages and give them personally to the Lady Galadriel."  
  
Elrond looked kindly at his departing guest, aware of the complex emotions swirling about him. "Come to see us again soon, my dear. Safe journey and may a star shine upon you always."  
  
Eloessa then quickly walked down the steps to the courtyard. She was surprised to see that Elrohir rather than her brother now stood beside her mare, waiting to help her mount. She met his gaze but his expression was closed. She needed little assistance into the saddle but she allowed him to set his strong hands about her waist and lift her upon her horse.  
  
Did she imagine it or did his hands linger longer than absolutely necessary? But still he did not speak, so she must be mistaken. It did not change what she was about to do.  
  
She looked steadily down into the eyes of Elrohir and knew she would never love another. "Farewell, Elrohir, son of Elrond. Though you want it not and have so far valued it little, I leave my heart here in Imladris, in your keeping. Unless you can return it in full measure and in kind, I care not to have it back."  
  
As she said these words, she held out her hand. Elrohir reached up to grasp it and she pressed the small leather pouch she held into his palm. His fist closed around it automatically and he looked as if he would speak.  
  
Eloessa gave him no chance. She wheeled the gray mare and fled up the valley path guarded by beeches, the white watchers. Celemedril and Eömeril, now mounted, saluted Elrond from their horses and galloped up the track after their sister. The sun dimmed behind a cloud. Elrond gazed at his son a moment, sighed, then turned and went inside with Arwen. Elrohir, his fist still clenched around Eloessa's token, stood in the courtyard watching long after the riders disappeared from sight, his heart deeply troubled. 


	2. Into the Mountains

INTO THE MOUNTAINS  
  
PART TWO  
  
The little party pushed hard to make up time the first few days, traveling until late and rising before dawn to start again. They climbed the rough foothills along the western border of the Misty Mountains, heading ever higher and to the south. Eloëssa was able to keep up with her brothers and more, she felt in her grief as if she could not get back to the Golden Wood fast enough.  
  
Celemedril and Eömeril kept watch through the night in turns and neither slept deeply or long as they climbed further into the mountains. After several days of hard travel, Eloëssa became aware that both her brothers were looking tired and drawn. "I will do my part and share night duty with you." She insisted. "Like you, I possess eyes and ears capable of keeping watch."  
  
Celemedril at first grumbled and resisted her pronouncement. Eömeril grinned at this familiar clash of wills. "Let her do as she will, brother. I, for one, could use some more sleep." After keeping watch with her to see how she did (Eömeril surreptitiously and Celemedril more openly), both came to trust in her ability and shared the watches equally.  
  
On the twelfth night from Rivendell, Eloëssa had the last watch before dawn. They did not venture a fire for they had heard Wargs howling in the distance right after they made camp. They were not far now from the Redhorn Pass, south of Caradthras. Eloessa had her own bow near to hand, made for her by Eömeril before they left the last of the tree line behind. They camped underneath an outcropping of serrated rock that looked to Eloëssa like a dragon's tooth. The air was yet cold at this height and no warmth of spring filled the wind that caught at her hooded cloak and bit at nose and fingers.  
  
Eloëssa pulled her cloak closer around her as she remembered the last storm of winter that passed through the valley of Imladris. Then, she had been warm and snug at Rivendell. The guests of Elrond gathered in his Hall after the evening meal for singing and tales in front the great fire.  
  
As was his wont during Eloëssa's visits, Elrond called for her to sing. That night she sang a haunting lay of Nimrodel and Amroth, of love wandering and lost, but ever faithful. She remembered the warm appreciation in Elrohir's fine gray eyes that night, while the wind whistled through the pines outside. As she sang by the fire she'd dared hope her feelings were returned. In the end her hopes turned cold as ashes in the hearth on a winter's morning.  
  
Now, the wind increased in intensity, shrieking and howling through the tumbled rocks. She thought the Mountains themselves mirrored the evil Master served by those who now made the high peaks their home. Even the wind echoed the hungry Warg cries. Suddenly she realized the sounds carried on the wind were real Warg howls, and they had been getting steadily closer. While she had been contemplating the reflected evil of the landscape, evil itself was stalking her camp.  
  
She silently touched Eömeril, the closest to her, her finger to his lips. He woke instantly. "Wargs", she mouthed, and pointed to where elvish eyes could pick out two, then three, four and five shapes slinking from boulder to boulder west of the out-cropping.  
  
Eloëssa picked up her bow and fitted arrow to string. Celemedril woke just seconds after Eömeril and now, sword ready, took position to his sister's right. Eömeril also had his great bow in hand. Each of the siblings targeted one Warg. The closest leapt at Eloëssa with a great howl and fangs that gleamed in the moonlight. She screamed even as she shot at another Warg behind it.  
  
The first Warg fell dead with an arrow through its neck from Eömeril's bow. The second Warg received Eloëssa's arrow in its tender ear and ran off screeching and bleeding. Muffled snarls and yelps beyond their sight told the group that a larger pack was yet out there, feasting on the fallen, as Wargs do.  
  
Celemedril, having beheaded a third and slit the belly of a fourth, now turned at a sound behind him. A great Warg more than 6 feet in length leapt from the dragon's tooth outcrop and brought Celemedril down under him with the weight and force of his body. Celemedril's sword was knocked from his hand as he fell. The Warg went for his throat, jaws ready to rip and slice.  
  
Celemedril brought up his hands and wedged them between the great jaws. The back teeth lacerated the warrior's knuckles but Celemedril refused to let go. His hands were so far back that the Warg's jaws could not close on his throat. But the Warg still had four legs and monstrous claws mounted thereon. He scratched and tore at Celemedril's vulnerable belly with his back feet. Celemedril felt the skin over his hip slice open and his inner warmth spill on the cold ground. His grip on the jaws began to weaken.  
  
Just when Celemedril felt he could hold on no longer, he felt the great body above shudder. The beast cried out in an ascending howl that seemed to shake the very boulders around him. The Warg fell heavily onto Celemedril's chest, pierced by three arrows. One came from Eloëssa's bow and two at once from Eömeril's great bow.  
  
Celemedril pushed the carcass off him with the last of his strength and struggled to gain his feet and find his sword. He did not know how many were left, or how much of a fight they could yet maintain. At least eight of the fell creatures lay dead around them. Celemedril suddenly realized it was very quiet.  
  
He looked at Eömeril, who faced the direction the Wargs had come from, two more arrows at the ready. Celemedril's hand closed around his sword. Eloëssa, pale but steady, pulled an arrow out of the body of a Warg near her feet to put in her bow. Celemedril met Eömeril's eye and jerked his head in the direction of a faint snarling and muffled rustling. Eömeril was gone a few tense minutes then silently returned.  
  
His bow was slung on his back and he was leading the other three horses. "They have taken the pack pony and are making a meal of it with some of their own fallen comrades. There are more than 20 left. We must take the horses and leave now, while they are occupied. If we can make the Redhorn Gate by sunrise, we can cross by the falls at the Dimrill Stair and they will lose the scent."  
  
Quick and silent the party slipped away from the killing ground under the dragon's tooth. The moon had set and they led the horses in near total darkness over rough and rocky ground, climbing ever higher toward the Redhorn Gate. The wind continued to whip about them, pushing at them as if warning that whatever lay behind, worse was to be found ahead.  
  
The brothers had purposely waited until late enough in the season for the Redhorn Pass to be free of snow. Otherwise, the only pass toward Lorien over the Misty Mountains was far south in the Gap of Rohan, many weeks journey out of the way. Neither brother considered the road through Moria, the Black Pit. No one, Elf, Man or even Dwarf ventured there now.  
  
As the sun peeked over the eastern edge of the mountains, Eloëssa was finally able to make out the faces of her brothers. Eömeril appeared grim, stooping and listening for sounds of pursuit as he ran. Celemedril's face looked pale and sweat beaded his brow, even in the chill dawn wind. His breathing was labored.  
  
Eloëssa looked down and saw blood spreading down his left hip and leg. "Eömeril, stop! She cried. "Celemedril is injured!"  
  
She dropped the reins of her horse and ran back to Celemedril. Despite his weak efforts to push her hands away, she made him sit before he fell. She tore away clothing saturated with blood and bared the flesh of his hip and thigh. A great gash tore the skin from hipbone to knee. It was not wide but it was deep. Her brother clearly had lost a great deal of blood.  
  
Eömeril came and watched anxiously as Eloëssa examined the wound. "How goes it with him?" he whispered. Eloëssa did not bother to answer, intent on the injury.  
  
"My leg may be in tatters but there is nothing wrong with my hearing, brother," Celemedril replied through lips tight with pain at the probing. "Go keep watch while we stop. There was an old Orc camp near here when last we came this way. They may have returned to occupy it now winter is past."  
  
Eömeril ignored the command for the moment, but took heart that his brother's spirit, at least, remained intact. He put a hand on Celemedril's shoulder and felt the great muscles bunched with pain.  
  
Eloëssa suddenly stood and ran back to her horse. She returned quickly with a small, exquisitely decorated leather wallet. She opened it and revealed splendid needles made of mithril, gifts from Lady Galadriel. She threaded one with fine silk.  
  
"You are fortunate, my dear brother," she said with forced lightness. "Not everyone is favored enough to wear the needlework of the Golden Lady's greatest seamstress. Of course, you must bear it in your skin," her voice broke slightly. "But, I promise to be quick."  
  
"There is no one else I would trust to put needle to skin, Eloëssa." Celemedril put his hand over hers that held the needle and thread. "Do what you must. Then we will go on."  
  
Eloëssa refused to look at her brother's face as she washed the wound with water from their water flasks then began the grim task of stitching the slashed skin together. The Warg's claws had been brutal.  
  
More than once, Eloëssa had to take Eömeril's knife and cut away skin too shredded to be sewn back together. The second time she did so, Celemedril, silent till now gave a great moan and fell back against the rocks, senseless.  
  
Eloëssa's shoulders slumped with relief that Celemedril was no longer conscious of the pain she inflicted, but she continued to place her neat stitches. Finally, she tied off the last knot. She dressed the wound as best she could with clean cloths from her pack. "He must rest now, for a few hours at least," she said.  
  
"A few hours are all I can give him. We must make it through the pass and on to the Mirrormere by dark, or it will go ill with all of us, no matter his wound." Eömeril took a last look at his unconscious brother then climbed a nearby tumble of rocks to keep a lookout. Their stopping place was precarious, in the rough cleft that marked the start of the Redhorn Gate.  
  
While Eloëssa watched over her brother, she could not help but remember that Orcs had taken Celebrian in the Pass, and then slaughtered the rest of her party. Celebrian had been well avenged by her sons and the number of dead Orcs burned in the Pass had never been counted. But the poison in Celebrian's wound had stolen her joy in life and she sailed away from Middle Earth within a year of her rescue. Eloëssa remembered well the sadness in Elrond's eyes when Celebrian left, for it remained there still.  
  
Very quickly, Celemedril began to burn with a terrible fever and thirst. He wandered in nightmares beyond the imagining of most Men, for he had already lived over two thousand years and seen much he wished to forget. Such is the bane, and the gift, of an Immortal's life. His siblings watched in silent worry as the day wore on.  
  
Finally, Eömeril knew they could delay no longer. The sun had passed its noon and there were still miles to go before they reached the relative safety of the Mirrormere, before the ancient eastern gates of Moria. "Get him ready to move," he said to his sister. "We have far to go." Then Eomeril brought the horses to where his brother lay in fevered restlessness.  
  
Had he the choice, Eömeril would have preferred to lead the horses through the narrow pass and down the steep carved stair on the other side. But Celemedril could not walk and the day passed too quickly on to darkness.  
  
Eloëssa said "I will mount behind him to keep him steady. May the Lady grant that the ride does not undo my needlework." Eloëssa tied the mare Vesta to the saddlebow of Celemedril's mount so she could guide both. Eömeril followed at the rear, ever watchful as the walls of the pass grew taller on either side, rising up out of sight, nearly closing out the sun.  
  
A chill mist settled on the pass as they came out the other side. Despite Celemedril's calculations, even this late in the year the mist seemed to hold the threat of winter. Sure enough, within an hour, sleet began to fall on the weary party. Celemedril's initial fever passed into a clammy dampness. Celemedril shivered without ceasing, shaking so he tilted in the saddle, almost taking Eloëssa over with him.  
  
The eastern side of the Redhorn Gate wound down to the Mirrormere in a series of broad deeply cut shelves, along side the many-leveled waterfalls, known as the Dimrill Stair. With the sleet and the spray from the plunging water, the Stair became treacherously icy. Eömeril's horse slid to its haunches, but he valiantly dragged the animal upright again. Their pace slowed even more as the sleet thickened, limiting their visibility to no further than the nose of the horses. Eömeril finally got down off his horse and led the party on foot. The late afternoon light failed. They were still eleven miles from the Mirrormere that lay in Dimrill Dale.  
  
Almost by feel, Eömeril led his brother and sister on into the icy darkness. "It is a fell wind that brings ice to the Mountain this late in the season. What dark fate turns our every step on this journey amiss?" he muttered.  
  
The burden of the party's safety lay heavily upon him. Celemedril was the warrior. Eömeril was the wanderer, singer of heroic songs, not a hero himself. "But I am all we have right now. And I will get us home, brother. I promise." He thought silently. He tightened his hold on the reins of his horse and plodded on, head down against the icy wind.  
  
After several hours, the sleet tapered off. Though it was still very cold, there was no wind and a watery early moon shone weakly in the sky. High thin clouds hid any stars that might have given comfort to the Elves, who first walked Middle Earth by starlight. Still, the light of the moon was a small improvement and at last Eömeril saw the reflection of the Mirrormere, the lake that lay before the East Gates of Moria.  
  
The Gates were tightly shut and had been for centuries. With their backs to the Gates, it would be a relatively safe place to camp for the night. Tomorrow, Eömeril thought, or perhaps the next day, given Celemedril's injury, would see them safe within the wooded protection of Lothlorien.  
  
Eömeril lifted his brother from the horse, alarmed at the cold rolling off him in waves, as if it sought to infect others with its iciness. Celemedril muttered strange half-words that Eömeril could not understand. Suddenly, the tall Elven warrior went limp in his brother's arms and spoke no more.  
  
Eömeril shifted him gently to the ground, laying him flat on a pallet Eloessa had prepared. Eömeril had chosen for their camp the broad plaza that had once marked the entrance to the great Dwarf City of Khazad-dum, now called Moria.  
  
"We will risk a fire. Celemedril must get warm," Eloëssa insisted as she laid all the cloaks and blankets from their packs about her brother's shivering form.  
  
Eömeril did not turn from his work caring for the horses. "A fire will bring Orcs, even this far down the mountain," he said, removing the saddle from his mount. "We are almost home. If we can avoid the notice of the Orcs tonight, I swear by Elbereth, I will see our brother safe in Lorien by tomorrow!"  
  
Eloëssa's fear and anger burst forth. "Without a fire, he will not last long enough to see the Golden Wood, ere his spirit departs for the Halls of Mandos! The Warg wound is poisoned and its deathly cold is spreading throughout his body. There is nothing I can do to stop it! Nothing, except try to keep him warm enough to survive this Morgoth-ridden night!"  
  
Eömeril laid his forehead on the warm, gently heaving sides of his horse, but said nothing. Suddenly, from behind, he felt a blade at his throat. He barely restrained himself from reaching up and breaking the attacker's wrist, for he recognized the knife and the slender hand that wielded it. His sister. "Gather wood for the fire or I will have to stitch up holes in two brothers this day". She said savagely.  
  
Eömeril turned slowly, hands held away from his body, to show his good intentions. His expression was sorrowful. He gently reached out and curled both his hands around hers that held the knife. She let him take it. They looked at each other for a moment in mutual grief and worry.  
  
"All right." Eömeril agreed finally. "A small fire. We will gather together with the horses and each other for warmth, as well." Eloëssa smiled gratefully and went back to administer a draught of elvish wine in hopes that would help ease Celemedril's suffering.  
  
Eömeril called, "Stay alert. Here is your knife." He tossed it to her and she caught it expertly. "I will not be gone long."  
  
Eömeril found little fuel for the fire on the rocky ground and he ranged further than he intended. He thought of his brother's shiver-racked body and pale cold skin. Fear clutched his heart. He determined to bring enough fuel back to keep his brother alive through the night, little knowing how high the cost of his quest would be.  
  
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At her brother's side, Eloëssa saw that Celemedril stopped shivering at last. At first she was relieved. But then she realized that his skin was even colder, if possible, than before. She was losing him. "Brother, don't go where I cannot follow," she cried.  
  
She had to do something, no matter how little. She drew the horses into a circle around them for any warmth they might provide and as a break against the wind, which picked up again. She knelt down by her brother and drew him into her lap. She cradled his head and held him close. Her gilded hair escaped its thick braid and hid her brother's face, mixing with her tears.  
  
She sang an Elven song of healing for the spirit. She chanted what small healing charms she knew, over and over until she had no voice. She knew it was not enough and felt Celemedril's spirit draw further away into the darkness. Eloëssa poured out all the grace and power of her love for her brother to pull him back.  
  
"Where can Eömeril be?" she wondered desperately. "Surely he should have been back by now." She held her brother closely, as the night grew ever colder.  
  
For the first time since the Wargs attacked, Eloessa allowed herself to think of Elrohir. She wished he were beside her, holding her and reassuring her that all would be well. She wept a little for herself, then. She knew that even if she and her brothers survived to see Rivendell again, Elrohir would never look at her with passion. He did not return her love nor ever would.  
  
Still, to give herself a little comfort in this dark place, she imagined herself wrapped in the strong arms of her beloved. She envisioned them making a life together in the protected valley of Imladris. And as she slipped into exhausted slumber she was sure she even felt the sweet weight of their child nestled in her arms. 


	3. Dhorlach

DHORLACH PART THREE  
  
A dark figure watched silently from behind the broken columns that once had graced the entrance to Moria. He gazed in wonder and not a little fear at the first High Elven Lady that he had ever seen. He saw her bend over the figure beside her and thought she glowed like cold starlight over the plains of Dunland, his home.  
  
In her, the watcher saw all that he had lost in the past years of death and destruction. Whether it was some evil of the Dark Lord at work or simply the corrupted heart of one that long ago abandoned honor for power and found neither, none could ever afterward say. But there bloomed in him a great and terrible desire to possess the beauty he beheld. And beneath it all, lay a fear of this beauty because he could not hope to understand it. Out of his fear grew anger and so from the first he determined he would take Eloëssa by force.  
  
The watcher's name was Dhorlach. He had once been a powerful prince among the Dunlendings. Against the command of his father, he had taken many thousands of their men into war against the Rohirrim. He allied with Wulf, lord of a domain bordering Rohan, who wanted to conquer that country and sit on the throne at Edoras. Wulf promised rich lands to Dhorlach, especially those along Dunland's eastern border. He even dangled the prospect of granting Dhorlach the rich vale of Isengard. Dhorlach rode into battle envisioning himself enthroned in the Tower of Orthanc.  
  
The Riders of Rohan fought hard, but they were overcome and the survivors fled to the refuge of the stone fortress called the Hornburg. The Men of Gondor were busy with their own battles in the South and could not then aide the people of Rohan. Wulf did indeed come to the King's House at Edoras. He sent his ally Dhorlach to finish off the resistance at the Hornburg. Dhorlach encamped around the stone fortress with vast numbers of men. He mounted a fearsome siege and threw wave after wave of attack against the unbreakable stone walls of the Hornburg. Finally he thought to starve them out.  
  
Then came the Long Winter. The snows fell without ceasing from November to March. No one could remember a colder winter. The stock died and food ran out. Dhorlach put his army on short rations. Dhorlach's men rounded up and slaughtered for food the herds of horses that ranged over the plains of Rohan. Wulf refused to call off the siege. Dhorlach picked off the few Rohirrim foolish enough to venture out of the fortress. He felt no particular mercy for them; a weak and vanquished people, he thought.  
  
One day, Dhorlach received word of a small war party foraying out from the Hornburg. Cold and hungry, he decided to seek distraction by going after them himself. He took those of his men not weakened by hunger or disease and set out. He came upon the small group and there was a quick, brutal battle. The Rohirrim were weak with hunger and they were swiftly surrounded and disarmed.  
  
Dhorlach decided to make an example of them. He stripped the men of Rohan and drove them naked through the snow to within sight of the fortress walls, but out of bowshot. He staked each of them out to die in the cold night. A guard was set over them to make sure they were not rescued.  
  
Dhorlach saw figures on the wall watch helplessly as the men shivered and shook and then shivered no more. He knew that one of the men who died was called Hama, son of Helm. He knew that one of the figures who watched from the walls was Helm, King of Rohan.  
  
Dhorlach went back to his camp, satisfied he had sent a clear message about who was in charge of the Hornburg. Soon afterwards, however, things began to go wrong. Patrols did not come back. Guards on watch disappeared. Dhorlach's men began to mutter and refuse to approach the Hornburg when ordered.  
  
Rumors flew that Helm came out of the fortress and even though alone and unarmed, he defeated any man he encountered. It was even whispered he ate the men he killed. Dhorlach was never sure if it was Helm, or the wolves that were rampant in the land, but men disappeared and few bodies were found. Dhorlach hunted constantly for Helm, setting many traps for him over the long five months of winter. Helm was never caught. Dhorlach lost almost all his men to weather, disease, desertion or Helm's depredations.  
  
A surprise attack poured out of the fortress in the early spring, scattering what little remained of Dhorlach's vast army. Dhorlach was forced north and west along the foothills with only a few men. Some of his men fled into the Fangorn Forest and disappeared forever.  
  
He was attacked again and again; first by the Rohirrim and later by Men of Gondor, lately come to the aide of their ally. He heard Wulf was ejected from Edoras and executed. All Dhorlach's plans were as nothing. He was now a hunted outlaw in a foreign land. Having gone against his father's command, squandered the lives of thousands of men, and now with no lands or riches to show for it, his life would be forfeit in his own country.  
  
Alone, hunted, and blaming all but himself for his lot, he wandered for many months. He ventured farther and farther in to the Misty Mountains, until one cold night he found himself before the ancient Gates of Moria.  
  
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Dhorlach watched Eloëssa slump exhaustedly near the man she had called her brother. He had seen the first brother foolishly obey the woman's command to go look for firewood and so leave this treasure alone and unguarded. There was little fuel in the area, as Dhorlach knew from days spent wandering these paths.  
  
Dhorlach also thought that the Elven warrior headed in the direction where he himself had stumbled on an Orcs' den two days before. Dhorlach understood from experience that Orcs were vile and vicious creatures, but found they could be useful, as long as one dealt with them from a position of strength. Alone and on his own, Dhorlach avoided them whenever possible. He knew how the dozen or more Orcs he'd seen would deal with a single warrior, no matter how skilled.  
  
Dhorlach made his decision. The sick one looked near death. But the first brother could prove fortunate in avoiding the Orcs and come back any moment. Now was the time to move.  
  
Dhorlach circled around in the dark. The moonlight and the wind that might carry his scent to the horses were his greatest enemies. He had lived so long as a veritable animal and without the means or desire to bathe that his scent was barely recognizable to the horses as human. Still, he remained downwind of them. Eloëssa stirred from her troubled doze and Dhorlach went still. She subsided and was quiet again.  
  
He inched closer and closer to his prize. Quick as a hawk stoops to take a rabbit, he grabbed Eloëssa. He knew silence was essential. He had a dirty rag in his hand and forced it deeply into her mouth when she opened it to scream. He dragged her backwards with an arm around her mouth and throat, and at the same time pinched her nose, so that she had to concentrate all her attention on trying to breathe rather than fight. The horses made uneasy noises. The mare Vesta neighed in distress, clear as a trumpet in the night. Celemedril did not move on the ground. But Dhorlach knew his time was short.  
  
Eloëssa was tall and strong, valiant in her own defense. Dhorlach had more trouble keeping hold of her than he expected. But he was a merciless man hardened by siege, battle and endless killing, who had in turn been hunted like an animal for over a year. Here was one treasure he would not yield, though all the old Kings of Numenor come upon him at once!  
  
Eloëssa did not know how far her captor dragged her. She fought him with all her strength but when she struggled too much, he cut off her air through mouth and nose until darkness swam in her eyes and she stopped. She knew he was a Man and not an Elf by his size and the remnants of armor about his body. A sword of Dunlending origin was at his side, catching on tumbled rocks in the path as they pelted along it. He appeared dark haired and tall for a Man. His hair was long and lank and a wild beard covered what she could see of his face. She concentrated on these details to fend off the terror that beat like a wild bird in her chest.  
  
Suddenly he veered to one side and pulled her into a rough grotto of rock that was barely noticeable until one passed it. Once around a shoulder of rock, she saw the grotto formed a wide-mouthed cave that was partially open to the sky. This was apparently where her captor had made a camp of sorts.  
  
He flung her to the ground, and rocks stabbed her in the back. He followed right down on top of her, not caring he forced the breath from her lungs with his weight. Eloëssa struggled to keep conscious and not panic. She made small whimpers behind her gag and despised how helpless they sounded. She again tried to fight, scratching at his eyes and face, pushing at his chest. Dhorlach laughed and pulled at her clothing, intent on full possession of what he had stolen.  
  
Eloëssa almost despaired. Then, as if he were right in front of her, she heard Eömeril's voice saying, "Stay alert. Here is your knife." Her knife! It was in the sheath at her waist. In her surprise and fear at the attack, she had forgotten it. She made herself go limp and her arms fell to her sides.  
  
Dhorlach readied himself to take what he wanted. Her right hand moved slowly to her knife and drew it carefully from its sheath. She grasped the hilt as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever held.  
  
As her brothers had long ago taught her, she quickly plunged the knife with all her strength up and under, into the soft part of his belly. To her dismay, she felt the blade strike something hard, a rib perhaps, and glance off to make only a long shallow slice along his side. The knife clattered to the ground. But it was enough. Dhorlach howled and plunged backwards.  
  
Eloëssa jumped up and ran for the opening of the grotto, not looking back. She was almost there when she was caught by the waist from behind. Dhorlach threw her up against the rock wall and let her drop. She struck her head on the stone and fell to the ground stunned.  
  
He straddled her and this time he grabbed her hands to bind them with a leather belt. Now he held both her hands in one of his, easily subduing her. Though bleeding from the wound she inflicted, he immediately returned to the task her attack interrupted.  
  
Dhorlach plundered his treasure with mindless abandon. Eloëssa's mind now turned in upon itself and for an endless time, knew only darkness. 


	4. Endless Night

ENDLESS NIGHT PART FOUR  
  
Eomeril had only a small armful of paltry kindling when he decided he could delay no longer in getting back to the camp. He pictured Celemedril getting colder and colder, until all living warmth seeped from his body into the pitiless night. But the firewood he had would have to be enough. He should never have come so far in the first place, nor left his siblings alone so long.  
  
He had come all the way to the Road in his search. It ran between tumbled rocks that looked like trolls had played at bowls with them. Eomeril knew the scattered boulders were big enough to hide all manner of creatures and indeed, he suddenly realized he had been watched for some time.  
  
He casually bent down as if to pick up more fuel and secretly loosened his sword in its scabbard and his knife in its sheath. He turned away from where he felt the unseen gaze was strongest and dumped the firewood softly. Quick as thought, he unslung his bow from his back and fitted two arrows at once to his bowstring.  
  
He half expected an attack at that very moment. But there was no sound or movement in the rocks around him. Eomeril moved slowly back toward the camp, bow at the ready, turning and twisting in every direction to guard against the unseen enemy that seemed to watch from all sides. Still nothing happened for several long minutes. Eomeril began to wonder if he had let his worry over his brother and sister conjure danger where there was none.  
  
But a cold fear such as he'd rarely known grew in his heart. His breathing was rough and his fingers grew slippery on his bowstring. The moon deceitfully hid its face behind a cloud and for a few moments, even Elven eyes could not pick out any detail in the shadow.  
  
Although he had been anticipating it for what seemed like hours, Eomeril was still shaken by the ferocity of the attack when it came. A dozen Orcs at once swarmed out of the rocks less than twenty yards away, brandishing iron swords and spiked wooden clubs. He fired two arrows at once, rapidly pulled a third arrow from his quiver and fired again. Three Orcs fell dead but the others kept coming, trampling the bodies in their charge toward the Elf.  
  
He kept shooting but with haste and close quarters, his arrows sometimes merely wounded and enraged, rather than dropping the black creatures where they stood. Soon two more Orcs lay unmoving across the Road and two others were wounded. The rest now slowly gathered about Eomeril in a circle, cautious of their adversary but certain of final victory. The Orc who appeared to be directing the fight shouted encouragement in their foul tongue.  
  
The remaining Orcs started to close the circle and Eomeril prepared to sell his life dearly. Suddenly he heard the shrill cry of a horse in fear, cutting through the night. Eloessa! Something was wrong back at the camp!  
  
With renewed strength borne of desperation, Eomeril shot the largest Orc through the heart. Pulling the last arrow from his quiver he plunged it with his own hand into the eye of the leader who had closed with him in fierce combat. The leader's spiked club came down with ferocious strength across Eomeril's face and right shoulder as the Orc crumpled, dead, to the ground.  
  
Eomeril felt white pain wash across his arm but had no time to wonder if it was broken. Whirling, he pulled his knife and threw it to lodge deep in the throat of an Orc behind him.  
  
Then at last he took out his sword, though he was forced to use his off hand, for his sword arm was useless. "Come, you foul creatures. Try the cold taste of Elf steel."  
  
His face was terrible and fair, shining with a pale light that burned the Orcs' eyes, and the Orcs were afraid. With their leader and many of their comrades slain in so short a time, when victory should have been easy, the remaining Orcs gave up the fight and fled into the dark.  
  
Eomeril felt something trickling down his face and found it was blood from a deep gash in his right cheek. His arm alternately burned and went numb. He thought the muscles may have been damaged, but it was not broken as he had feared. He had trouble seeing out of his right eye.  
  
Eomeril wanted nothing more than to slip to the ground and stay there until dawn. But he forced himself to remain upright and headed off at an unsteady run toward his camp, dreading what he would find when he got there.  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
Celemedril knew he was dreaming, but could not wake up. He heard Eloëssa chanting in her lovely voice. He kept searching for her but she eluded him. She teased and laughed, running from tree to tree in the Golden Wood as she had when they were children. Then the trees turned dark and forbidding as if they were in the Mirkwood of the east. Some even took on the appearance of tree-people, the mysterious Ents of the ancient stories.  
  
Celemedril began to fear for Eloëssa. He had to find her, but the trees kept changing and he lost the path. Eloëssa's chant changed to a lament for those gone to the Halls of Mandos, and then changed again to a voiceless moan that rose to a scream..Eloëssa!  
  
Celemedril jerked awake. His heart was pounding as if he had run up a mountain. He looked around but his vision was blurred. It was very dark. He could make out little except large, four-legged shapes he assumed were the horses. Something was terribly wrong and not just his wound, though his leg burned with pain like someone had replaced the bone with a white- hot poker. "Eloëssa! Eömeril! Where are you?" he called. He heard nothing but the sounds of the horses and the wind.  
  
Celemedril's vision slowly cleared. He struggled to get up. For several minutes he had to remain on hands and knees, fighting off dizziness and weakness. He grasped a nearby rock and pulled himself upright.  
  
Once the world steadied about him, he saw the camp was indeed empty. He did not remember coming here but recognized the Gates of Moria. He called out again. "Eömeril, where are you? Eloëssa, answer me!"  
  
Eloëssa's mare, Vesta whinnied shrilly. Celemedril gazed intently at the horse. "Something has happened to Eloëssa, fair one?" He felt the mare was trying to tell him what he ought to know. Although Eömeril or Eloëssa might have had the gift of understanding Vesta, Celemedril did not.  
  
He saw on the ground, however, something that made his heart stutter with fear. He picked up the leather wallet containing Eloëssa's precious mithril needles. They were worth a small ransom besides being a heart gift from the Lady Galadriel. Eloëssa was never careless with them. He tucked them carefully away, hoping he would have the chance to return them.  
  
Celemedril looked more closely at the ground and saw evidence of a scuffle and something or someone being dragged away to the north. There was a single boot print, too. It was not a soft boot of leather such as he and Eömeril wore, but the nail studded boot worn by the soldiers of Men.  
  
Celemedril looked around and found his sword leaning against his pack. He girded himself and spent a moment clearing his mind of pain and weariness. His inner vision now burned with a single purpose, to find Eloëssa.  
  
He did not know where Eömeril was, but could not wait for him. The Elven warrior ignored the pain in his leg and set off at a ground-burning jog over the rough terrain. By the dim light of a wasting moon he followed scant evidence of the passing of captor and captive for what seemed like hours.  
  
He could not completely overcome the reality of his wound, however. He repeatedly pushed away the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. But finally, he had to stop for a moment. To examine the trail, he told himself. Except now there was no trail. Although the ground was rocky, at first he had found overturned stones and other bits of evidence to indicate which way his quarries went. Now there was nothing. He almost called out Eloëssa's name in his worry, but knew it might be deadly for her if her captor knew they were closely pursued.  
  
At least the trail seemed to indicate a single adversary. One enemy was probably all Celemedril could handle in his condition and even that might be doubtful. With an effort he put such thoughts from him, knowing a warrior can lose the battle in his mind before it is ever fought.  
  
He went several yards further ahead but still found nothing. Either the enemy could disappear at will or Celemedril had missed the place where he had turned aside. Hoping to Elbereth he was right, Celemedril turned back the way he had come.  
  
Heading down the track again, Celemedril went slowly, fearing to miss any possible clue. His strength was waning. He prayed he would still be of use to his sister when he found her. If he found her. His heart quailed in his chest at the thought and he tried to think of something else.  
  
Where was Eömeril? Why had he left their sister alone with only a sick man for protection? If she was hurt, Celemedril swore in his fear and fury that Eömeril would answer for it. The brothers would learn that such oaths taken in the darkness of the heart reap only evil for the oath-taker and only grief for the oath-breaker.  
  
Celemedril despaired of finding the trail again, but kept looking, even when he was beyond hope. He finally stopped and looked up at the sky, seeing stars for the first time that endless night. He traced Elbereth shining coldly above him. He wondered if Eloëssa could see it, too. The night's stillness was absolute. It seemed to press with a physical weight and he bowed his head beneath it.  
  
Suddenly he heard a man's dark laughter, the kind that accompanies acts of cruelty and malice. Celemedril oriented to the sound instantly. It seemed to come from behind a solid wall of rock. He silently crept closer and examined it. He saw the sheltered opening of the grotto he missed before. His leg threatened to give out on him, but he drew his sword and prepared to meet his foe.  
  
When he entered the grotto his worst nightmare greeted him. A Dunlending soldier in tattered gear straddled his sister. Celemedril could see Eloëssa's skirts in disarray around her hips, while she lay still as death. He could not see if she yet lived. His rage blossomed like a red fire from the depths of the earth. He charged the soldier with his sword held high, and his face promised swift death. "Die, Dunlending, die! You are not fit to walk the grass of Arda!"  
  
The soldier twisted from his vicious business and jumped up in fear, scrabbling at his own sword he wore in a sheath on his back. Celemedril's blade was sharp and his aim was true. But fate mocked his intent and Celemedril's leg gave way beneath him. The Dunlending was able to counter the blow with his own blade. The misspent power of the Elf's blow sent his sword spinning out of his hand, back toward Eloëssa's body. Celemedril now panted on his knees, weaponless, in front of his sister's despoiler. He saw his death, and that of Eloëssa, in the eyes of the Dunlending.  
  
The soldier held his sword against the throat of the Elf. The he spoke the only words Celemedril ever heard him utter. "The legends say it is death for a Man to lie unbidden with an Immortal. Yet I have done this thing and still here you see me."  
  
"The legends are true." said a clear voice, like a bell ringing into silence. Before Celemedril could move, a silver blade sliced through the night, right through the neck of the Dunlending. His head was cut neatly from his shoulders and landed at the feet of a body that did not yet know it was dead. Blood showered over the stony ground. The man's expression looked slightly surprised. Celemedril looked up and saw his own sword gripped in the slender but deadly hands of his sister.  
  
"The legends are true." Eloëssa said again. But then the strength seemed to leave her. She sank to her knees, bound hands still holding the sword. She leaned against it, its point sunk into the stony ground, the sword her only support. Delicate ribbons of blood streaked her face and arms. She stared at Celemedril with eyes wide and dark with shock.  
  
He reached for her and she fell into his arms. She shook as one with an ague, but made no sound or cry. Taking his sword from her, he cut the bonds on her hands. Celemedril helped her to her feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his wound, determined his leg would not fail this time.  
  
He heard a sound and thrusting Eloëssa behind him, whirled, sword in hand, to meet this newest foe. His eyes fixed on the face of his brother. Eömeril's face bore a deep gash in one cheek, still bleeding; and one eye was swollen almost shut. Eomeril held a sword in his left hand, his accustomed weapon hand hung crookedly at his side. But the grayness of his complexion, of one who has known the deepest fear for many long hours, was worse by far than his wounds.  
  
Celemedril in his sudden fury took little notice of the wounds and none of the lines of worry that now permanently marked the face of his brother. "Where were you? Where were you when our sister was stolen from our very camp, attacked and despoiled? You betrayed her trust, and mine!"  
  
Celemedril stepped forward and struck his brother across the face with the back of his hand, like a hard master will punish a worthless servant. Eömeril did not flinch from the blow. But when Celemedril moved as though to strike him again, Eömeril stopped his brother's hand in mid-arc with surprising strength. He bore Celemedril's hand down again and Celemedril, with no choice, gave way.  
  
"Now is not the time or the place, no matter how well-deserved your scorn, brother." Eömeril said tonelessly. "Eloëssa needs our care and comfort first."  
  
Eömeril walked past Celemedril and speaking softly approached his sister. She had sunk to her knees again and looked blankly at the ground. Sheathing his sword, Eömeril touched her gently with his uninjured hand, but she flinched and shrank away. Eömeril drew his hand back slowly, despairingly, but his voice held only gentleness and love. "Come, little one. Let us care for you. Soon we will have you safe in Lorien, and in the care of your Lady who loves you. She will heal your hurts. Come, Vesta awaits you just beyond the rock wall." With that, he picked her up in his arms, stifled a moan, and began to leave the grotto.  
  
Celemedril limped over to stand in front of his brother. He said "Place Eloëssa upon her mare. I will ride with her on the road to Lorien. Do not think to join me in this, for you have not earned the right. Since you are come late to this engagement, I will leave you to finish disposing of the refuse here." He gestured to the beheaded body. He held his brother's gaze. "I think I do not have to tell you I will never leave her to your care again."  
  
Eömeril looked down at Eloëssa's empty eyes. "No, you do not need to tell me." He said. He looked as if he would say more, but remained silent. He steadied the mare while Celemedril painfully mounted in the saddle. Then he gently helped place Eloëssa in her eldest brother's arms. "Ride swiftly, and take her to the Lady Galadriel. I pray she will be able to heal her." He said, unable to stop himself.  
  
Celemedril looked at him coldly. "Do not speak to me of her hurts. Attend to the task I have appointed you. Perhaps that, at least, lies within your skill." With that he set off down the mountain, on the last miles to Lothlorien.  
  
His heart full of guilt, grief and anger, Eömeril turned back to the body of his sister's attacker. He looked at the dead soldier and thought his brother a mighty warrior indeed, to have been so close to death just hours ago and then to have struck down this enemy. Perhaps his brother was correct in setting him the task of disposing of the carrion. It was all he had proved himself worthy to do.  
  
He felt as if it must surely be close to dawn, but the eastern sky remained stubbornly dark. He thought of the horrible sight of an empty camp that confronted him after his battle with the Orcs. He had called for his brother and sister till he was hoarse with shouting. The echoes of his cries in the rocks seemed to mock him.  
  
He tried to find a trail to follow but there was no moon as there had been for Celemedril earlier. He found nothing. His sight was blinded with tears of desperation until he fell to his knees in the dirt. Then he saw what was both hope and torture. A trail of blood, probably from Celemedril's wound. He took Vesta, the mare, with him in case a mount was needed. He followed the bloody clues to the rock wall. He had arrived, but too late.  
  
In a dark rage all the more terrible for its silence, Eomeril picked up the soldier's own sword and methodically mutilated and profaned the body until only small unrecognizable pieces remained. Because burning might attract unwanted attention, he left the pieces lying where they were, an invitation for whatever fell beast might happen by.  
  
Though he did not know the man's name, Eömeril knew he was from Dunland by the make of his tattered armor and his sword. He must have been of high rank in the past, for his ragged cloak had once been of excellent quality and it was clasped at the throat with a finely-wrought gold brooch in the shape of a running stag pierced upon a spear. Eömeril kept only the brooch and the sword. Though it take a hundred years, he swore he would find the man's home and history and make those who had supported or aided him rue the day of their birth.  
  
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Celemedril had to turn south from the grotto back toward their doomed encampment. From there he would follow the cold and sparkling Silverlode through Dimrill Dale and thence to Lorien. As the darkness lightened imperceptibly, Eloessa's mare became nervous and tried to shy from the path. Her rider's hand was firm, however, and he calmed her with a whisper of elvish words in her ear.  
  
As they rode along the path, Celemedril noticed what Vesta sensed earlier. The unmistakable tang of blood was in the dawn air. With day coming there should be little danger from any Orcs around, but he remained alert. Eloëssa did not rouse from the stupor into which she had fallen.  
  
Celemedril soon came upon the aftermath of a fierce battle. The bodies of at least seven Orcs lay scattered in the rocks and across the road. As he drew nearer, Celemedril saw that most Orcs were pierced with arrows. In the throat of the last Orc was thrust the silver-worked dagger of Eömeril. The dagger had been a gift from the elder brother to the younger many years ago. Celemedril reined Vesta and stopped for a long while silently looking at the scene. Then he settled Eloëssa more securely in his arms, turned the mare and set his face toward the Golden Wood.  
  
Finally, as if the darkness had decided all the evil that could happen in one night was finished, the sun was allowed to show its face again upon the earth. Morning had come to the Misty Mountains at last. 


	5. Secrets in Lothlorien

SECRETS IN LOTHLORIEN PART FIVE  
  
Celemedril strode up the great ladder stair that led upwards to the house of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel in the city of Caras Galadhon. He had saluted the guards at the foot of the stair and had listened for the answer to their horn call that granted him permission to start the upward journey.  
  
The great house was built at the top of a giant mallorn tree, the likes of which was seen nowhere else in Middle Earth. He came with haste from his guard post on the borders of Lorien, in obedience to an urgent summons from Lord Celeborn. With both hope and dread, he suspected it had to do with his sister Eloessa.  
  
In the last several months, he had seen Eloessa but once since the day he bore her to the apartments of the Lady Galadriel, their foster-mother and ruler. Eloessa had been cruelly attacked and despoiled by a Dunlending soldier in the Misty Mountains. His sister had, to his shame, been forced to kill her attacker herself.  
  
Celemedril had desperately borne her back to Lorien for Eloessa had slipped further and further into a stupor after her rescue. Nothing, not even finally, reluctantly, a sharp blow from her brother, had roused her. When he arrived he had given a brief, bare account of events to Lady Galadriel. His sister had been taken away to rooms within the house and put under the personal care of the Lady.  
  
He had then gone to report to Lord Celeborn. He managed to collapse in the midst of his recital, due to the poisoned and unhealed leg wound he had taken in the Misty Mountains in his battle with the Wargs. He had slept for more than three days and finally awoke much recovered, due to the leech- craft of Lorien's healers.  
  
Celemedril found that while he slept his brother Eomeril had arrived, following them from the Mountains. Eomeril had taken on supplies enough for a long journey and then left again without telling anyone where he was going. He had stopped only long enough to learn that Eloessa's condition was unchanged and that Celemedril was trapped in a troubled sleep seeking to throw off the poison in his body.  
  
Celemedril had gone to see Eloessa as soon as he arose. Lady Galadriel herself had been sitting with her handmaiden day and night. The healers had dealt with the bodily hurts they found but could not heal the mind and spirit fled far away from the horror she had endured.  
  
"Eloessa is unchanged since you brought her to me three days ago," Lady Galadriel said. "I fear she will not come back to us without great help. I have tried to reach her, but even the love between us is not enough to overbear the grief her mind seeks to hide from and deny."  
  
Galadriel moved aside from the bed carved in the shape of a great swan and gestured for Celemedril to approach. Eloessa lay pale and still beneath the sheets, barely seeming to breathe. Celemedril was startled, for his sister's light blue eyes were open and staring out the open window, where late afternoon sunshine filtered through the mallorn leaves. He looked questioningly at Lady Galadriel. "Her eyes are open, but she appears to hear us not and does not respond in any way." She said in explanation.  
  
Celemedril moved closer and knelt by the bed. He said, "Eloessa, sister, it is time to be up and doing. I am sure the Lady has much to tell you for your visit in Rivendell was long and she missed you." He knew he was rather abrupt and his words shorn of tenderness. But he was a warrior, not a bard.  
  
And his heart was still heavy with shame and regret that he had not protected his sister, nor even managed to avenge her attack. She had done that herself. He had not yet admitted this to anyone in Lorien. To his shame, he so far had allowed them to believe that he had slain her attacker. Even his brother did not know the truth. When his sister awoke, he would have to face his failure, but not until then, he thought.  
  
But Galadriel continued to look at him expectantly so he tried again. He did not know what else to do, so he took his sister's hand in his. So slender and fine, he thought. But he remembered well how she wielded the sword and sliced from his neck the head of the man who hurt her. Shame threatened to choke him again and warred with the pride he felt at her feat and his fear that her suffering had overturned her mind.  
  
So his voice was rough with emotion when he spoke. "Come back to us. Come back to us, gentle flower." He gave her the childhood name she, little warrior, had always despised. He hoped the old name would get some reaction from her, for her irritation had always been his brotherly, if affectionate, goal.  
  
But Eloessa gave no response. She lay still on the bed. Her eyelids lowered slowly over blank eyes, and raised again with no change in expression. Though her brother tried to draw her back for several more hours, he had no success.  
  
He was reminded of his dream the night of the attack, in which she eluded him in a dark forest despite his desperate search. When the moon stood high above the trees of Lorien, Celemedril at last gently kissed the hand he held and turned away in defeat.  
  
Lady Galadriel sighed. "It was no different with Eomeril, though I had hoped.they have always been so close."  
  
Celemedril stiffened at the mention of his brother. "He came to see her? I am surprised he took the trouble. I thought he barely spared time to load up supplies and run off again."  
  
"I know not what impediment has come between you and your brother, but you will not bring its pettiness in to the sickroom of your sister!" Lady Galadriel said sharply.  
  
"Eomeril's departure was without my leave or my Lord Celeborn's, so he is not in my favor at present. He would not answer any questions about what happened. You have left many details unspoken as well, though I excused this due to your wound. But do not challenge my good will too far, son of Gilrond."  
  
"Your pardon, my Lady." Celemedril bowed stiffly. "I am, as ever, at your service."  
  
"Leave here and come not to your sister's presence until your heart is at peace. Think of her, and not your damaged pride or guilt. While you are in turmoil, you will not be the one to reach her." Lady Galadriel turned away, dismissing Celemedril, who thought as usual the Lady saw far too much.  
  
Celemedril had left the Lady and his sister and gone to take up patrol duties on the far southern borders of Lorien. He ever kept alert for word of his brother, for the last report of him had been that he was heading south, toward Rohan. And beyond Rohan, Celemedril thought, lay Dunland.  
  
After a few weeks on the border Celemedril had heard that his sister was responding at last to the constant care of the Lady Galadriel. He was relieved to know this, but mindful of the Lady's warning to stay away unless he himself was at peace, he continued his endless patrols. He remained ever at war within himself, eaten away with shame for his failure, his lies, and his treatment of his brother, but yet unable in his pride to confess any of it.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Eloessa had risen from her bed and cared for herself. She undertook simple tasks. She refused to work any needlecraft, though her precious mithril needles had been returned to her. She spoke rarely and did not smile or sing.  
  
One thing only she asked of Lady Galadriel. Eloessa begged leave to withdraw into seclusion, with just a single servant, to a tree talan some distance from the Lady's house. "My mind has come back to my body, but neither are at peace. I must have time to myself, my Lady. Please, mother of my heart, grant me this request."  
  
Against her better judgment, but in an effort to give her foster daughter what comfort she could, Galadriel consented. Eloessa, like her brothers, had resisted all attempts to talk about what had happened to her.  
  
Galadriel had lived long enough, through wars of Elves and Men and many other creatures, to know what sometimes happened to women, even Elven women, caught up in the violence of Middle Earth. Many Elves who suffered such an assault died of grief, but not all. Galadriel had feared greatly for Eloessa when her brother first brought her from the Mountains.  
  
But her foster daughter was strong and now seemed as if she would survive. So if she needed time alone to heal completely, Galadriel thought it might be for the best. Lady Galadriel, for all her wisdom, could not always see what lay in the hearts of those closest to her and so missed the true cause of Eloessa's torment.  
  
Thus, for many months, no one saw Eloessa except the serving woman she took with her. The servant Calmae, once served Evasta, Eloessa's mother. Her love and loyalty was ever first to the child of Evasta, even before Galadriel, though never before had this been put to the test. So Calmae served Eloessa and watched, but remained silent.  
  
A spiral stair around the trunk of a golden-leafed mallorn reached the talan platform where Eloessa dwelt in solitude. The dwelling was simple, with just four rooms. All of them could be laid open to the sunshine with shutters, or closed at need in bad weather. Wall hangings woven by Galadriel's women, some by Eloessa herself, graced the wooden walls. They were forest scenes of Lorien in all its seasons or depictions of starry nights along the Silverlode. Calmae cooked the simple meals Eloessa preferred over a metal brazier. Carved chairs and one low divan with ample cushions comprised most of the furnishings except lidded chests for storage.  
  
Eloessa spent the summer and early fall looking out the windows of her bedroom, rarely leaving it. She watched the leaves turn deep gold, red and orange. The trees in Lorien kept their leaves late into the fall. The autumn air became crisp and bore the scent of change. Soon enough the winds shifted and winter storms brewed in the eastern Mountains, boiling down across the plains to the edges of the Golden Wood.  
  
Galadriel finally decided Eloessa had spent enough time alone and arrived one frosty morning unannounced. She had stayed an unexpectedly short time, then left and closeted herself with Lord Celeborn. A messenger was soon dispatched to the southern border to summon Celemedril, which brought him hastening but unenlightened, to the presence of his Lord and Lady.  
  
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Lord Celeborn was seated upon his great chair carved with curling mallorn leaves when Celemedril entered and bowed before him. Lady Galadriel, however, stood looking out a window that was open despite the chill air outside. Lord Celeborn looked grim, the warrior thought. He was shocked, though, by the strain in Lady Galadriel's face. She looked as though she had been weeping.  
  
Celemedril could only think of Eloessa. "Does Eloessa fare ill?" He asked, without waiting for leave to speak. Lady Galadriel gestured to halt further words. She returned to sit beside Celeborn. Celeborn gave her his hand and Galadriel clasped it tightly, seeming to need comfort. Silence reigned for several moments while Celemedril's mind whirled in confusion.  
  
Lord Celeborn finally spoke. "I apologize for leaving you to imagine that Eloessa has taken injury or has passed away. Neither has occurred. And yet, things go ill with her. Something of great, perhaps fateful, significance has come to pass." He paused, as if weighing his words. "Eloessa is with child."  
  
Celemedril looked as if he wished he could sit down. "Why would she seek a union without my consent? Who amongst the men here have sought her out? Even if I was beyond consultation, no one would approach her without seeking your advise or the Lady Galadriel's." he said uncertainly.  
  
Then another terrible possibility suggested itself to him. He asked with an expression full of pain, "Did the shock of her attack lead her to value herself less and offer herself outside of marriage? Surely she knew the fault was never hers. It was that of the foul carrion who attacked her. His and mine, may she forgive me! I failed to protect or even avenge her."  
  
Finally his secrets came pouring out. "He took her from the camp while I lay senseless from my wound. Eomeril left her alone with me. I slept through the attack, and then woke to find them gone. I tracked them down but I was too late. He had already despoiled her."  
  
The tall Elf's form was bent with anguish. "I tried to avenge her but my wound betrayed me and I was disarmed. Even hurt and bound, she managed to kill him when I could not."  
  
He turned away from his foster parents, weeping in his grief at what he had done. "Bereft of my pride, I turned my rage at myself upon Eomeril. I struck him and accused him of cowardice and betraying my faith in him."  
  
He struggled for a moment to find the strength to describe depths of his dishonor. "I later found he had been delayed in a battle with Orcs. He was alone and he slew seven of the creatures in his desperation to return to Eloessa and the brother he thought near death."  
  
"Even when I knew the truth, I never sought his pardon. Now he wanders distant lands on a quest of vengeance believing that I hold him unworthy of my trust." He cried. "When it was I who betrayed him and our sister!"  
  
He turned back to Lord Celeborn. "Whatever has befallen Eloessa, I will ever hold her in honor and she will always have my protection."  
  
Celeborn shook his head sadly. "Would that you had told us of this sooner. Whether anything could have been done, our way might now have been clearer."  
  
He pronounced judgment on his foster son. "I hold you blameless in failing to prevent the attack on Eloessa. It is to her honor with none taken from you that she was able to avenge herself. Your great pride caused you to assume more responsibility and guilt than was your part to carry. Your sins against your brother are gravest of all but must be reckoned between the two of you at some time in the future."  
  
The Lady Galadriel now spoke for the first time. "While your confession has left you more at peace than at any time since your return, it is clear to me you do not grasp what Lord Celeborn first told you."  
  
She said wearily. "You know that unlike the race of Men, women of our race conceive only when they are desirous of it. Whether that gift is granted to them is in the hands of Iluvatare. But never have I known a conception to occur when a woman was not moved to desire a child. Thus is each birth among the Eldar welcomed with joy."  
  
"Eloessa is now six months gone with child. In her fear and confusion, she kept it secret until I discovered it two days ago. Her mind is nearly overborne with the weight of what has happened and what will happen. I do not and will not believe she desired this conception, though I cannot otherwise explain it."  
  
Galadriel continued in the face of Celemedril's growing horror. "There is no doubt that the father of the child is the one who attacked her. He was a Mortal. You know that in all the ages that have gone before, there have only been two unions between Men and Elves, both of them born out of a great love that was blessed by the Valar."  
  
"Even so, each joining set in motion many significant events, both fair and dark. Who is to say what fate this child, borne of Man and Elf in an evil and violent union, will work upon Middle Earth? The future is clouded indeed in this and I can see no path clearly. They all look dark to me now."  
  
"Some heathen king from the Dark Years might have ordered such a child put to death." Commented Lord Celeborn thoughtfully. Lady Galadriel looked at her husband sharply, but Celeborn reassured her. "All life, especially a child, is precious here in the Golden Wood. Never would I tempt the dark and dreadful blood price such an act would call down upon us."  
  
Celeborn continued, looking hard at Celemedril. "Still, we know nothing of this man who fathered the child. Not his family or his deeds, except his final, evil one. What sort of child will a daughter or son of his be? Did the man labor under some curse to venture such a dreadful crime? If the child remains here, what fate will it bring forth among us?"  
  
"Such counsel regarding an unborn babe may seem cold," Lord Celeborn acknowledged, "but I must consider these questions, for the good of our people." Thus were his listeners gently but implacably reminded where his first responsibility must be.  
  
Lady Galadriel now stated firmly, "We may not know the father but we assuredly know the mother, valiant and fair Galadhrim that she is. And we certainly know the grandparents, our faithful and beloved friends who left their children in our care. That is enough for now."  
  
Lord Celeborn bowed his head in acknowledgement of her decision. "For now," he allowed.  
  
Lady Galadriel looked then at Celemedril who stood still at attention, struggling to take in all that had been said. She gestured and he came to kneel in front of her. "Listen now to my will in this. Eloessa will remain here in comfort and protection to await the birth of her child. It may be wisdom after that time for her and the child to leave us for a while, but that need not be decided yet."  
  
"You shall go to your sister and ask her forgiveness for the pride and turmoil that kept you apart these many months. In her mind also there was confusion and pain and she believed you were shamed by what had happened and did not wish to be near her." Galadriel watched grief wash over Celemedril's face at this pronouncement. "Be careful you do not burden her with your guilt, but leave her heart lightened with your love and care of her." Galadriel cautioned.  
  
Celeborn now spoke in tones not to be disobeyed. "Do not speak of her condition to anyone. Until we know more clearly what all this portends, others must not know of it. I greatly fear this could be used in some way against Lorien by the Dark Lord, who is ever striving against us and seeking for a weakness in our defenses. This child must not one of them."  
  
"Fortunately, Eloessa has been withdrawn from society all this time and only her maidservant knew of her condition ere I discovered it. I believe Calmae will keep silent, now that I have had speech with her." Galadriel's tone did not imply the conversation had been a pleasant one for the servant. Galadriel had been most displeased to find Eloessa's condition had been hidden from her for so long.  
  
Galadriel continued her instructions to the kneeling warrior. "Take your leave of Eloessa within two days time. Be prepared then to go and find your brother Eomeril. I desire you to find him and make your peace with him. Turn him if you can from whatever path of vengeance and bitterness he may be traveling. But together find out what you may of the history and deeds of the father of Eloessa's child. Act not on this information but return to us here. The child will be born before spring. Try to be back in time."  
  
She laid her hand on Celemedril's head in blessing. "Go in peace, Celemedril, son of Gilrond." Then she said softly, as if to herself. "When the child is born, perhaps the way of wisdom will become clearer to me."  
  
With that, Celemedril knew he had been dismissed and rising from his knees, stood before the Lady of the Golden Wood. "Thank you for your love and care of Eloessa. This I can never repay. But I will not return until your will has been accomplished, my lady." He bowed once more and left the room. Galadriel and Celeborn, hands clasped, sat long after together in silent thought. 


	6. The Mind of an Elf Maiden

THE MIND OF AN ELF MAIDEN PART SIX  
  
Eloessa sat looking at the door of her bedchamber for several moments after her brother Celemedril closed it behind him. He had spent almost every minute of the past two days here, talking with her and entertaining her. He had spoken of happy times past. He recalled picnics on the banks of the Anduin in spring; boat races between chanting Elves on the moonlit river; lying on the flets amongst the trees as very young children, watching the clouds through the leaves and dreaming of great deeds to be done in the wide world.  
  
Celemedril also talked of their parents, which he almost never did. At last he seemed at peace with their leaving, understanding how one could weary of millennia of existence and desire the renewal to be found across the Sundering Seas. To Eloessa's disordered mind, Celemedril's acceptance sounded like relief their mother and father did not remain to see Eloessa's shameful fate. The subjects he did not mention were Eomeril and the child, except to say he would be leaving soon to find their brother.  
  
In this last meeting, however, he had begged her forgiveness for what he perceived were his sins against her. He had assured her of his love and his protection as long as she needed it. She had looked upon him but could find nothing to say. She knew all the sins were hers.  
  
Finally, because he seemed to need it, she said she forgave him and assured him there was peace between them. He looked relieved and she knew she was another obligation discharged. She had been crossed off the list of things to do in his quest for absolution. He then took his final leave of her before departing on his next task, to find their brother Eomeril.  
  
Eloessa knew Celemedril was somewhat hurt by her distant response to his efforts these last days. But she did not have the words or the energy to explain how remote she felt from everyone and everything around her.  
  
When the Lady Galadriel's relentless efforts had drawn Eloessa back from wandering the dark places of her own mind, Eloessa resented rather than appreciated it. At least while her mind refused to inhabit her body, Eloessa knew a kind of oblivion. There was no pain, no shame, no decisions to be made, and--no child to be dealt with.  
  
When she awakened, Eloessa quickly grasped what had caused the changes in her body while she lay mindless in the great swan bed. She quietly panicked, for she knew as well as her foster mother that no Elf woman conceived who did not desire a child. To her shame and guilt about the attack was added the ultimate horror that she, of all Elf women to suffer thus, must have been so dishonorably weak as to desire the child of her molester. And now, gone beyond any hope, was the dream that Elrohir would find her desirable as a bride.  
  
Her old nurse Calmae had come upon Eloessa weeping in despair just a day after she regained awareness. To Calmae, Eloessa poured out her suspicion and after a quick examination, Calmae confirmed it. It was Calmae who suggested that Eloessa beg leave to go into seclusion, to give them time to figure out what to do. Calmae at first broached the idea of confiding in the Lady Galadriel, but Eloessa refused. While she loved her Lady, she also knew her for the great, even perilous, Power that she was. In her distraught mind, she was terrified lest the Lady cast her out of Lothlorien as something unclean for bearing this unprecedented evil, not fit to dwell in the Golden Wood.  
  
Once she withdrew to the peace and solitude of her tree-bower, Eloessa's initial panic receded. But she still could not bring herself to tell the Lady Galadriel for she feared seeing the pride and love in her foster mother's eyes turn to disappointment and contempt.  
  
So she waited and as the days passed, Eloessa stopped thinking about the future, about the child, about the inevitable discovery of her condition. She stopped thinking altogether. She kept to her room, for hours watching the pattern of light and shadow cast by the play of sunlight through the leaves of the mallorn tree. Calmae saw to her every need, as if she were an infant again, making it easy to drift from one moment to the next. It was the closest she could come to the dark oblivion into which she had plunged after her attack, and to which she increasingly desired to return.  
  
Eloessa had expected the shocked expression of Lady Galadriel the day she discovered Eloessa's condition. What Eloessa had not expected was the flash of fear that crossed the Lady's face, quickly hidden. "Is the child the result of the attack in the Mountains?" Lady Galadriel asked, although Eloessa thought the Lady knew there could be no other answer.  
  
"The man who did this.he was a stranger to you?" Thus did the Lady of the Golden Wood delicately inquire if her foster daughter's tale of being raped by an unknown soldier was actually true, thought Eloessa bitterly. It was far more likely, after all, for her to have desired to conceive the child of a man she knew, Eloessa acknowledged. A more reasonable, if sordid, explanation than that Eloessa had defied the natural law that governed Elf conception since the beginning of time  
  
Lady Galadriel rose from the chair she had occupied next to Eloessa in the bedroom. "You should have told me of this when first you knew, Eloessa. Perhaps there might have been ways." she shook her head. "But we must deal with the situation as it is. I know you must be frightened, but take comfort. You shall have the protection of the Golden Wood, no matter what happens." Eloessa noticed she did not say, the love of the Lady of the Golden Wood, but perhaps she was expecting too much, she thought.  
  
Galadriel looked searchingly into her foster-daughter's eyes. "I know not why this has happened or what it might mean for you, the child you bear, or others. There lies before you a great trial, and you must look deep within yourself to find the strength to bear it. You are the only one who can travel this road, whether you wish to walk it or not, " Galadriel said sadly. "Yet, I fear you will not be the only one tested in this. I only hope none of us are found wanting."  
  
Eloessa had turned away from Galadriel but the Lady's next words brought her around to face Galadriel again. "Do not leave this place without seeking my will first. You are not in custody," she said, seeing Eloessa's startled expression. "But I believe it is wisdom to continue to keep your condition a secret for this time. I will speak with Calmae. You will be perceived as continuing your solitary contemplation until the child is born. Then we will decide further what to do." Galadriel pulled her hooded cloak about her golden waterfall of hair. "I go now to report to Lord Celeborn and take counsel with him. I will let you know our will soon."  
  
Galadriel turned and said with a softening expression. "If you need anything at all, send Calmae to me immediately." She seemed to wait for a response, but Eloessa said nothing.  
  
Galadriel sighed. "I know of old your maid's skill as a midwife and healer of women. You could be in no better hands. It is clear she is devoted to you." This last was said with a bite in the tone.  
  
Lady Galadriel opened the door, called, "Calmae, attend me!" and swept through to find the hapless servant hovering in the hall. "No doubt you already know all that I said to your mistress, for your hearing is still sharp enough to listen through closed doors. Now come with me for I have several instructions for you." The Lady and the maid disappeared down the spiral staircase to the ground, the Lady's voice growing faint in the winter air.  
  
When Calmae had returned with Eloessa's evening meal that night, Eloessa noticed the maid seemed quite subdued. "What did the Lady Galadriel say to you, Calmae?"  
  
Calmae laid out the meal for the two of them, for Eloessa had insisted they take supper together, and avoided looking at her charge. "She bade me care for you and the babe, as if I haven't been looking after you as though you were my very own!" Calmae's voice rose at the last, recovering some of her spirit.  
  
"And," Eloessa prompted.  
  
"And, she wanted me to start sending her weekly reports on your condition. She also told me to remain silent if I wanted to keep looking after you." Calmae looked somber as she finally met Eloessa's eyes. "She has never threatened me before, in all the years I have known her. I was mid-wife to Lady Evasta, her dearest friend, and then to Lady Celebrian, her daughter. I was nurse to you and your brothers."  
  
"But never before have I felt she would use her power against me if I disobeyed. I begin to fear she would even move against you, my lady, if she felt you were to become a threat. But after today, I believe she sees this unforeseen child as the potential threat to Lorien."  
  
Calmae suddenly leaned closer. "Be wary, lady, be wary. Remember you can depend upon me, no matter what happens." With that Calmae had left the room, saying she did not wish to sup tonight and she would return later for the dishes.  
  
Since the Lady's visit, Calmae had become even more protective, fiercely guarding her right to attend Eloessa. Eloessa thought Calmae resented having to go and give her weekly reports on Eloessa's condition. She wondered how Lady Galadriel received the messages and the attitude in which they were no doubt delivered. No hint of the Lady's plans for Eloessa had yet been given.  
  
Eloessa reflected now on these thoughts as well as her brother's visit today. The behavior of all those around her, if not their words, seemed to confirm this burden she carried was full of portent and maybe peril. As usual, her mind veered away from the subject of the babe like a deer shies away from a cast stone. Although, she admitted wearily, the subject, like the size of her stomach, was getting harder and harder to ignore.  
  
It appeared her time of peaceful drifting was over. Eloessa left the food untouched and began to truly think for the first time in months. All through the long night she pondered the fate that had become hers. When dawn finally crept in from the east, she summoned Calmae to her and together they began to make plans. 


	7. A Moment of Truth

A MOMENT OF TRUTH  
  
PART SEVEN  
  
A weak winter sun flashed the last of its rays as guards on the eastern border of Lothlorien kept watch from their tree platforms above the Nimrodel where it meets the Celebrant, or Silverlode. Though late winter snows piled high in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, the air was merely crisp and the ground bare within the borders of the Golden Wood.  
  
Haldir, warden of the eastern border, saw a party of four approaching on horseback. No one crossed the Mountains alone in these days of growing Darkness. His keen Elf sight revealed the identity of the riders. They were familiar to him but he knew they were not expected. He wondered what news could bring these road-stained travelers over the Mountains in the depths of winter.  
  
Haldir dropped silently from his place in the tree. Three other border guards joined him soundlessly at his signal. The riders halted at the sudden sight of the Elf warriors, for their garments cloaked them from sight amidst the silver branches until they chose to reveal themselves. Though the visitors had not seen Haldir and his men until now, they seemed unsurprised at the manner of their abrupt appearance.  
  
Haldir spoke to the dark-haired Elf in the forefront of the party, "Well met, Elrohir, son of Elrond. You have traveled far and at a season when the wise do not tempt cruel Caradthras to live up to its name. You were fortunate enough to find the Pass open to you?"  
  
"The Redhorn Pass is known to me in all its seasons, Haldir, March-warden of Lorien. The wise will go where and when the need drives them. Now I have need to come to Caras Galadhon, so I ask that you let me pass." Elrohir said with a glint in his grey eyes. He was not used to being challenged in the land of his kin.  
  
Haldir held his ground, well aware of both his authority as a March-warden and the rank and connections of the impatient rider before him. "Your welcome is certain in the house of Lady Galadriel, but your coming is unlooked for, so far as I know. Always before, a messenger has preceded you or the Lady has known of your coming by her own will. Never have I failed to have the Lady's consent, ere your arrival, that those from the House of Elrond had leave to enter her realm."  
  
Elrohir gestured impatiently but Haldir continued with no change in his firm manner. "You well know our law that no strangers enter Lorien without leave of the Lord and Lady. It is also law that even friends or kin arriving unlooked for must state their business and go under escort directly to Caras Galadhon."  
  
One of the riders accompanying Elrohir, a tall stern-looking Elf, looked as though he would have something to say about upstart border captains telling the grandson of Lady Galadriel where he could go and when. Elrohir, who had looked angry during most of Haldir's pronouncement, now simply looked wearily amused. "Peace, Erestor. Since I desire to go directly to Caras Galadhon and my business is to see the mother of my mother, Master Haldir can fulfill his duty with good conscience. I must insist, however," Elrohir said with steel in his voice, "that our good captain come with us and give a complete report of our arrival to both Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn"  
  
Knowing he had taken his authority to its absolute limits, Haldir agreed with what dignity he could muster. A complete report, indeed! He thought ruefully he might be spending a lot of time on patrol duty after this night.  
  
The party of four weary riders was escorted by Haldir and one of his lieutenants. Despite their obvious exhaustion, Elrohir declared they would ride through the night to reach the Green City. Haldir wisely did not object, even though it meant swimming the horses across the Silverlode in the dark. Fortunately the night was clear and the stars were bright as they made their way across the Naith of Lorien. The smooth bark of the silvery trees in the forest dimly reflected the starlight, and the riders passed through the silent wood shining like pale phantoms in the dark.  
  
When they arrived at the Gates of Caras Galadhon, they entered without challenge by authority of Haldir, even though it was late in the night. But neither Haldir's position as a March-warden nor Elrohir's kinship with the Lord and Lady of Lorien would bring them into their presence before the next morning. The party from Rivendell was shown to the comfortable flets usually set aside for them. The other three members of his party, thrust upon him by his father for this impetuous journey, fell asleep immediately upon their couches. Elrohir, as tired as he could ever remember being, lay wakeful till dawn, pondering the meeting to come.  
  
The next morning, Elrohir and his party were shown to the presence of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They stood to welcome their guests after their custom. Elrohir introduced his companions, Erestor, Glorfindel, and Onoril. The rulers of Lorien previously knew all but Onoril and each was graciously welcomed. Lady Galadriel looked intently at Elrohir and bade his companions take their ease and look upon the City of Caras Galadhon while she spoke further with her kinsman.  
  
The other three Elves bowed low and left the chamber to find Haldir waiting for them. His reward for his dedication to his duty was to act as their guide for as long they wished it. Erestor decided he had a long list and herded the hapless captain out into the city. Glorfindel promised Haldir relief in the form of a bottle of wine later if he kept up with Erestor in the meantime.  
  
Inside the chamber, Lady Galadriel granted permission for Elrohir to speak. Elrohir bowed and said in a formal manner. "Lord Elrond sends greeting to Lady Galadriel, wisest above all others, from whom sprang Celebrian the Fair, she who has ever held the key to his heart. He sends greeting to Lord Celeborn, guardian of Lothlorien. Lord Elrond prays this message finds your realm in peace."  
  
"The realm of Lothlorien bids the son of Elrond and Celebrian welcome, as ever. I know that your brother Elladan wanders with the Rangers in the far north and west of Middle Earth. Arwen, your sister resides with her father in Rivendell, though I hope she returns to visit me soon."  
  
"She sends you her love, as ever, my Lady." Elrohir assured her. He would need all the good favor Arwen's name carried before this meeting ended.  
  
Lady Galadriel paused, then mused in a way boded ill for her grandson. "But never before, Elrohir, have you come unheralded and unlooked for. It seems you have gone to some trouble to make sure you came in secret, even from me."  
  
Lady Galadriel's voice seemed to echo inside Elrohir's mind and her eyes to penetrate his very being. He had seen her do it to others but could not remember ever being its target. She continued speaking, but now without words. "This clandestine approach is a new skill for you, my dear. Does your father know the manner of your coming? Or indeed, its real purpose?"  
  
Elrohir answered aloud truthfully. "He does not know that I hid my approach from you. He will be displeased to hear it. I know that you have looked into my heart. You see how I accomplished my concealment and will guard against it in future. That is well, for I wish no harm to come to Lorien."  
  
Elrohir looked from Celeborn to Galadriel. "Neither does my Lord Elrond. He sends a further message. He wishes you to know that, like you, he ever strives with the Shadow. But he sensed some shade of threat is growing here, in Lorien. He does not know its nature or extent or purpose. He knows you are ever vigilant but offers whatever aide he can."  
  
"And what aide does he offer? You, my dear Elrohir?" Lady Galadriel said softly.  
  
"I would lay down my life to protect Lothlorien, home of my childhood, and the home of my mother," Elrohir said earnestly. "When my father told me that he sensed a growing shadow in the Golden Wood, it echoed a truth I had begun to feel in my own heart." He thought briefly of the terror and joy that truth had brought him, then pushed it aside; he could tell Galadriel continued to probe his heart and mind.  
  
Elrohir took a deep breath for he knew he was about to venture into perilous territory. "When word reached us in Rivendell that Celemedril and Eloessa were injured in some sort of attack on their journey home, my father sent immediate inquiries as to their welfare and asked for details of what happened. The initial reports received from Lorien were grievous, but vague, saying only that Celemedril survived a terrible wound but Eloessa's recovery remained doubtful. No details of the attack were given." Elrohir remembered his anguish at the news and halted for a moment.  
  
"Continue", Lord Celeborn said into the silence, leaving no doubt this was a command, not mere encouragement.  
  
"I, I mean, my father, asked that regular reports on the condition of Eloessa be sent, for she is dear to my family." Here Elrohir stumbled a little, a rare occurrence for the son of Elrond, glancing quickly at his grandparents. "Despite this request, only one more message did we receive in all the months since. It said simply that she had withdrawn into seclusion for healing and contemplation. And still no word of how she and her brother were injured. Indeed, there has been no news of her brother, Eomeril, at all."  
  
"We know the content of the messages sent, for they came from us, Elrohir. And so?" Lady Galadriel queried, raising an aristocratic brow.  
  
Elrohir had known this would not be easy, but his grandmother certainly was not helping. "So I have come to see for myself how Eloessa, and her brothers fare."  
  
Lord Celeborn drew himself up and looked hard at his grandson. "Of what do you accuse us, pray? Speak! Let us hear why you come like a thief in the night and then cast slurs upon the honor of Lorien."  
  
Elrohir managed not to flinch at his grandfather's tone--barely. He thought of the worry and frustration of the past months that could have been dispelled with a simple message from the man before him. He lifted his head and returned Celeborn's gaze. "It was disturbing to me that our direct requests for information about Eloessa were met with silence. And quite unlike you, who taught me everything I know about honor and duty toward a guest and long-time friend."  
  
Celeborn's expression grew stormier, but Elrohir continued. "This occurred at the same time that my father perceived a shadow of peril drawing over Lorien itself, which had never happened before in his memory. My heart was full of foreboding. Since I did not receive answers to my messages about Eloessa and her brothers, I thought to come in person."  
  
"And if answers were to be found, it seemed needful to me to come secretly. If this new threat to Lorien were connected to what happened to Eloessa, then my coming unexpectedly might hinder its purpose. If there was a good reason for the silence," Elrohir turned to Galadriel but perceived no change in her expression, "then it was meet that I come discreetly so as not to endanger her further."  
  
The chamber was silent following Elrohir's words. He could not tell what Galadriel and Celeborn were thinking. He saw them look at each other and knew they were communicating directly without words. Finally Lord Celeborn spoke aloud. "Leave us now, Elrohir. Come again tomorrow and we will speak further on these matters."  
  
When Elrohir might have spoken, he heard in his mind "Be patient! You know not all that has come to pass. Now go!" The force of his grandmother's unspoken command nearly sent him to his knees. He struggled to remain upright and even managed a creditable bow. He saw an acknowledging glint in her eyes at the effort that cost him. He withdrew with as much dignity as possible and waited until the chamber door closed behind him to sink, shaking, to the polished floor.  
  
When he was certain he would not walk like a drunken soldier, he made his way back to his talan. His companions had not yet returned. He ate a light dinner of fruits, cheese and sweet Lorien wine. He then sat in silent contemplation, long legs crossed in front of him, arms across his chest. One might almost have thought him asleep, so still was he. But a close observer would note an air of tension or expectation about the Elf.  
  
When the shadows grew long and twilight fell amongst the trees, the door to the talan opened quietly. Elrohir did not stir, but the feeling of tension in the lithe body increased palpably. "Did you get what I needed?" he asked the figure standing in the doorway.  
  
"Yes. Though Haldir did not realize it, he was most helpful." said Glorfindel, coming into the room and closing the door. He crossed to stand in front of his younger friend.  
  
Elrohir sat up and asked intently. "Then it is true, what we heard? None may approach there without the express command of Lady Galadriel? Are there guards?"  
  
The older Elf shook his head and reported. "There is only one guard, in place day and night, with three changes. The last change will be at moonrise. No one is permitted inside the talan save the servant. Nothing is known except Lady Eloessa took some hurt on her journey back from Rivendell last summer. She was in the care of the Lady for a few weeks and then recovered enough to withdraw to a private residence."  
  
Glorfindel imparted the rest of his intelligence. "Most think she pines for her brothers, who have both left Lorien. Eomeril arrived after Celemedril brought Eloessa here from the Mountains and left again in just a day or two. No one knows where he went. Celemedril departed several weeks ago, at the beginning of winter, to search for Eomeril, it is said. Nothing has been heard of them since, but there is a rumor both traveled south when they left."  
  
Elrohir rose and began to collect items from his pack. He took a rope, a knife and a cloak identical to those worn by Haldir's border wardens. With an almost ritual gesture, he touched the small leather pouch that he wore on a thong around his neck hidden beneath his clothes. He paused a moment, then added his sword at his belt. Glorfindel watched these preparations with alarm. "Think about what you are doing Elrohir. Some would consider it treason. You could be risking banishment or even death, depending on what you find."  
  
Elrohir did not pause in his preparations. Glorfindel continued urgently. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel do nothing without good reason, and their commands are not to be taken lightly. I, myself, have broken every law of hospitality we hold sacred, by using my freedom to spy and gain information. I do not know what will come of this madness of yours."  
  
The room had grown quite dark as they spoke though Elven eyes adapted to it easily. Elrohir's teeth flashed in the dim room as he grinned and walked out the door. "It's not madness, my friend. It is love." 


	8. Love's Labors

LOVE'S LABORS PART EIGHT  
  
Eloessa walked about her room, trying to ease her aching back. She felt sore everywhere these days and found it difficult to get comfortable. Calmae would no doubt be willing to provide a comforting massage with ointment made from the yellow elanore flowers. But Eloessa was restless tonight and at long last had begun to tire of Calmae's constant care. She did not want any more of her nurse's hovering this day.  
  
Though she had sought refuge from others in the beginning and agreed with Lady Galadriel's command for secrecy, she had become very lonely in the weeks since her brother left. Calmae was devoted to her but Eloessa was used to being busy and surrounded by others. She missed the warm friendship among the women who gathered in Galadriel's bower and workrooms to spin beautiful cloth, weave wondrous garments and create breathtaking tapestries.  
  
She had many friends and in winter, especially, the women spent the precious daylight at their work singing, laughing and telling stories. They spoke of their hopes and dreams, their men and their families. Especially their men. Galadriel would sometimes put a stop to discussions that became too ribald. But on the days when the Lady was absent, the talk often would turn earthy, indeed. Eloessa thought the strongest warrior would swoon in shock if he knew how his womenfolk talked between themselves. She smiled now at the memory.  
  
Eloessa stopped and ran her fingers over the tapestry that hung on her bedchamber wall. It was skillfully executed but Calmae called it "disturbing." It was a forest scene and depicted a doe being attacked from many directions by great hunting dogs with dripping fangs. They looked suspiciously like Wargs. Eloessa had requested and received from Lady Galadriel her own personal supplies and enough material to start a small new tapestry. Eloessa created it in a flurry of activity over several weeks of her confinement. She liked the savagery of it. It often fit her mood these days.  
  
Lady Galadriel's visit to deliver the supplies had been many weeks ago, however, and Eloessa had seen no one but Calmae since. She was heartily tired of these four rooms. "I feel as if something must happen and soon. I cannot find rest anywhere!" She cried.  
  
She started another circuit of the room, trying to be quiet for her maid usually slept in the adjoining chamber. It was not easy, what with wooden floors and being nearly the size of Vesta, her mare. She trod as lightly as possible and thought of the plan she and Calmae had made. Whatever Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn decided to do, Eloessa was determined to put her plan into action. She would take back control of her fate for the first time since she left Rivendell. But of course, nothing could happen until the child was born.  
  
The child. It was not her child. She had reached an uneasy peace with the stranger that occupied her body and had taken over her entire existence. In her darkest moments early in the pregnancy, she had considered taking her own life to prevent the coming forth of a perilous threat into a troubled world. She now acknowledged that the babe was entitled to a chance at life and to prove it could be different from its sire.  
  
She should say "he", at least, she supposed. She had sensed for several weeks that she would bear a son. Sometimes she wished it could have been a daughter, for then she might have felt some connection, some hope the babe would not harbor the evil inclinations of the father. But when she knew the child would be a boy, a potential bond withered away before it could form. Bearing a son seemed like a victory for the Dunlending. She suspected it would have pleased him in a twisted sort of way.  
  
She still heard him laughing sometimes, in her dreams. His spirit haunted her, his executioner. The spirit was powerless to do anything but torment her if she allowed it. Sometimes she had spoken to it, in her long solitude, swearing the Dunlending would not prevail over her. "You think this son is your final victory, don't you?" She muttered tonight. "You think he will be like you. Well, he won't. No, no, I've made sure of that."  
  
The pain in her back grew worse, cresting like a wave breaking on rocks and then receding slowly into the sea. She clutched the thick bedpost for support; her cheek pressing into the carved leaves that adorned it. When her breath returned, she continued walking slowly, going over her plans in her mind.  
  
She spoke aloud to the dim room. "Calmae and I will take him to Rohan. There I will see him adopted by a family of honorable Rohirrim on the border with Dunland." Her brother Eomeril had spoken of this family kindly in the tales of his travels.  
  
"I will see that they raise him up to be a mighty warrior. This family lost two sons in the border wars and will gladly take another into their household. Your son will bear no love for Dunland. And one day, he will ride tall and free into battle, a Rider of the Mark. He will go to war against your people, Dunlending. May you know it and burn with the knowledge in the Void where you surely dwell!"  
  
She stopped by the window, threw open the shutters and looked west at the stars shining above the trees of Lorien. She breathed deeply of the cold, clear air of the wood. Her momentary surge of rage had left her terribly tired. "When I know the child is safely with the family in Rohan, I will go to the Grey Havens," she vowed silently.  
  
"Calmae thinks we can come back here to Lorien, like nothing has changed. Even if Lady Galadriel forgives me for going against whatever she has planned, I cannot come back. I have changed. Middle Earth grows dark to me. Perhaps, I will find peace in the Undying Lands of the West." But even as she had the thought she knew her heart would dwell ever in Rivendell, in the keeping of Elrohir.  
  
Eloessa stood for a long while at the window, silent with an intense inward concentration on the tumultuous activities of her body. Suddenly, Calmae rushed into the room. "My lady, guards are coming to take you away!" she gasped, grabbing Eloessa's hands.  
  
She noticed the stunned look on Eloessa's face and stuttered an explanation. "I delivered my weekly report earlier this evening. I told her you were nearing your time. When I was done, I was not allowed to return to you. I was told to wait for further instructions from the Lady. But none came and the hour grew late. I knew you would wonder where I was, for you were asleep when I left."  
  
Calmae dropped Eloessa's hands and wrapped her arms about herself, shivering in the cool air. "I finally left the room where I had been told to wait. I came to the hall and heard the captain of the guard giving orders. He said Lady Galadriel had commanded that you and all your belongings be brought to her house this very night that nothing was to be left behind. I slipped out as soon as I could and came straight here."  
  
Calmae sank into a chair near the bed. "My lady, I fear something has happened to make the Lady act sooner than we anticipated. You will perhaps be made prisoner and I will not be permitted to attend or help you!"  
  
Eloessa, her mind racing to puzzle out what all this might mean, knew that Calmae's greatest fear was to be separated from her. So Calmae had grown increasingly suspicious of the motives of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Given this latest news, Eloessa wondered if her nurse's anxieties were coming true.  
  
Eloessa put her arm around the shoulders of the older woman, for her nurse was visibly shaken and apparently had run all the way from Lady Galadriel's house. "Did the guards say anything else?" Eloessa asked.  
  
Calmae nodded distractedly. "Yes, the captain mentioned that Lord Elrond's son Elrohir had arrived unexpectedly last night and today had been closeted long with his grandparents. The captain saw that Elrohir appeared very shaken after the interview, as if he had heard distressing news."  
  
Calmae did not attach any importance to the appearance of Elrohir for Eloessa had never mentioned her feelings for him. In Eloessa's mind the attack and the pregnancy had doomed that love absolutely.  
  
"My lady, we must make ready now for you to leave! The guards will be here very soon." Calmae jumped up from the chair and pulled out a set of travel bags from a chest. They had long been packed against such a day. She did not notice her mistress sink to the bed as if all the strength had fled from her limbs.  
  
The mention of Elrohir, here in the Golden Wood, swamped Eloessa with a blind panic. She had accepted long ago she was no longer a fit bride for him. But for him to see her in this condition, swollen with the child of a rutting mortal soldier, would be more than she could bear. He must not see her, must never know the truth, no matter what happened! Calmae was right, though perhaps for the wrong reason. She had to leave now, this minute.  
  
With a desperate energy, Eloessa helped Calmae make preparations for their departure. Their travel packs were light for they had known they might need to leave secretly and quickly when the time came. They just hadn't planned on it being before the baby was born. Eloessa shoved aside the monumental difficulties of trying to travel in her condition. Calmae, in her agitation, also seemed to disregard her mistress' advanced pregnancy.  
  
Eloessa pulled out the elven rope ladder she had woven of hithlain weeks before. She had made such items in the past for Galadriel's favored guests. The ladder was soft as silk but was not slippery, providing a good grip for the climber. It was strong enough to hold the weight of several men at once. Yet it folded up smaller than seemed possible, making it valuable for long journeys. Eloessa secured the rope ladder to pegs she had previously affixed to the window that faced away from the more populated area of the city. The ladder slithered silently to the ground, shimmering slightly in the starlight. Moonrise would shortly be upon them.  
  
Through the open window, both women heard the sound of men talking at the foot of the spiral stair that led to the talan. The guards had arrived! Eloessa told Calmae, "Go to the top of the stair. Say I am asleep or not feeling well. Tell them I am giving birth, anything, just delay them for as long as possible!"  
  
Eloessa hurriedly put on her cloak and moved toward the window as she spoke. She slung her pack around her shoulders. "When you are able, meet me at the dock on the Anduin. I think they will expect us to leave on horseback to the south. But we will take a small boat as far as possible down the River and then shelter in one of the settlements of Men on the shore, when the baby comes. Then we can make our way to Rohan."  
  
But Calmae did not move. Eloessa's ungainly shape getting ready to climb out a window and down a rope ladder thirty feet in the dark seemed to suddenly give the woman second thoughts. "My lady, perhaps we should not leave yet. I can sense now you are very close to your time. Surely it would be safer to stay and try to leave after the baby is born, like we planned." Calmae pleaded.  
  
Eloessa paused, sitting on the windowsill, then said in a voice she had never used to Calmae. "Do as I say, woman! I will not stay here!"  
  
Eloessa looked wildly at her servant. "Don't you understand? Elrohir has come. I love him as I have never loved another. If he sees me and knows the truth of my shame, it will be the death of me. I can feel it in my soul, Calmae." Eloessa spoke the last words with the absolute certainty of one pronouncing a doom. She swung both legs out the window.  
  
"I dreamed of giving him a child before the attack. This child should have been his." Eloessa said softly and then disappeared with heart-stopping rapidity below the edge of the window.  
  
Calmae ran over to see Eloessa move awkwardly but quickly down the rope ladder and land softly on the ground. Eloessa's words seemed to ring with a terrible significance in Calmae's mind, but events were rushing ahead so quickly, she could not make sense of it yet.  
  
Male voices could be heard from the spiral stair. One cried out, "Mistress, come out. Lady Galadriel has sent an escort for Lady Eloessa. Come out at once!" Calmae turned and hurried to the entrance to the talan, vowing to give her beloved charge the time she needed to leave Lothlorien. 


	9. Love's Labor Lost

LOVE'S LABOR LOST  
  
PART NINE  
  
Elrohir slipped silently through the dark forest, almost invisible in his Lorien cloak, made for him by Eloessa as a gift. She had given them to his brother and father, as well. He knew it had not been meant as a heart gift from her. But he treasured it. He wore the cloak whenever he traveled and believed it carried the blessing of Eloessa in its making.  
  
He saw torches in the treetop flets of the city's residents, but the paths beneath the trees were largely empty of people. He easily avoided the occasional passerby, turning aside in his cloak to disappear behind the large trunk of a nearby tree. With the information provided by Glorfindel, he knew he was close to the place Eloessa had dwelt these many months.  
  
He meant no harm with this nighttime visit. The behavior of his grandparents was so mysterious and out of character he felt he had to see Eloessa alone to understand what was really going on. He wanted to talk to her at a time and place where she would not be constrained by the affection or influence she felt from Lady Galadriel. He also wanted privacy to explain his conduct and apologize for having, as Arwen diplomatically put it, "the sensitivity of an Orc with a toothache."  
  
Arwen had strongly supported his journey, even when their father doubted its wisdom. Only Elrond's continuing sense of danger looming over Lorien had finally prompted him to give his consent. Though he had not said so, Elrohir suspected Elrond knew his lack of permission would not have stopped his son from going.  
  
After hearing Eloessa had been hurt and was in grave danger of not recovering, Elrohir prepared to ride to Lorien, alone, within the hour. Elrond at first reasoned with him, then threatened to put him in bonds if he did not stay and wait for more information. At a cost that he wasn't sure his father appreciated, Elrohir finally agreed.  
  
He had tried to be patient, but the lack of response to his father's inquiries had nearly driven him mad. He had never felt relief like he did when they finally received word that Eloessa had recovered enough to leave Lady Galadriel's care. Arwen had wept with joy. Even Elrond's eyes had appeared moist.  
  
But no further message came. There was never an explanation of how the children of Gilrond were hurt in the first place. Elrohir thought Celemedril or Eomeril would have sent word so other travelers from Rivendell could take precautions, but he heard nothing. The silence from Lorien seemed ominous. Elrohir's fear for Eloessa had begun to grow again.  
  
But now, as much as he wanted to see Eloessa again, his footsteps seemed to slow the closer he got to her talan. How would she react at seeing him again, after he had turned aside her confession of love? How could he make her understand that he really did love her and had for many years?  
  
He stopped for a moment and pulled out the leather pouch Eloessa had given him the day she left Rivendell. She had left her heart in his keeping, she said. He gently shook the token she'd left him into his hand. The single heirloom of the House of Gilrond, the entwined mithril swans glittered in the starlight. Of its origins he knew only that the brooch had been brought by Gilrond out of Valinor and later given by him as a bride-gift to his wife Evasta.  
  
That Eloessa had entrusted him with this priceless inheritance in the face of his rejection gave him the only hope he possessed that she would listen to him now. He knew he would have to fully confess his burdens and his mistakes, the full truth of which even his family did not know. Maybe then she would understand.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Well he remembered the day he first knew he loved the spirited, talented Elf. He had come to his grandmother's bower with a message from Lord Celeborn. He and his brother Elladan had returned to Lorien for the first time in many years, after patrolling long in the north with the Dunedain. They had diverted here to meet with their mother, who was expected any day from Rivendell.  
  
It was autumn and the light in the chamber had been golden but sharp, throwing all objects into relief. He heard a beautiful voice singing of the lomelinde, the nightingale in Galadriel's garden. He looked for the singer and saw Eloessa. Her golden head was bent over the tapestry she embroidered. Her face lifted into the light to continue her song and Elrohir's breath left his body. Her expression radiated peace and joy as she sang and sewed with her sisters in the workroom. The feeling in the room was peaceful, yet powerful, and overwhelmingly female. Elrohir suddenly felt out of place and feared to disturb the song and the spell. He withdrew before he was noticed.  
  
He walked alone in the forest for several hours. He contemplated his love for her and mused in true lovesick fashion on all her wonderful qualities: Her gifts as a broideress, her singing, and her quick wit and of course, her golden beauty. He was going to do this right. He even planned on getting his friend Celemedril's consent. He would then spend quite some time delightfully persuading Eloessa to marry him. He had never doubted that they would wed. He forgot all about delivering his message.  
  
But in the end he had never approached Celemedril or confessed his love to Eloessa.  
  
The next day, the lone survivor of his mother's escort arrived, mortally wounded, on the borders of Lorien. Before he died, the Elf reported a large party of Orcs had overwhelmed the group at night in the Redhorn Pass, slaying everyone but Celebrian. Unusually for Orcs, they had taken Celebrian prisoner and fled into one of the innumerable tunnels and holes the Orcs possessed in the Mountains. The surviving guard had been left for dead.  
  
At first, Elrohir had been tempted to slay the man on the spot for not following to save his mother. Thankfully, his brother Elladan stayed his hand, pointing out that if he had pursued, the man certainly would have died and they would not know what happened to Celebrian.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir rode out within hours, taking with them fifty Lorien Elven warriors in full armor. Rarely did the Elves venture forth in force in the latter part of the Third Age and many that watched the warriors ride out were reminded that never again would a true Elven army set forth to battle in Middle Earth.  
  
With the information provided by the dying guard, the brothers located the most likely area for the Orcs' tunnels. They set a watch on the entrance of several, with the main force of the Elves hidden some distance away. After two nights, their patience was rewarded and they captured three smallish Orcs. By the application of means the brothers never afterwards discussed, the Orcs were persuaded to lead the Elves through the tunnels.  
  
They hid in the caves with their informers for many hours, listening to the foul speech of the other Orcs and forcing their prisoners to translate. Finally they formed a plan and sent a messenger back to the others. As designed, the larger force of the Elves mounted a noisy attack at the entrance of the tunnel to draw off most of the Orcs. The brothers stowed their captives in a small hole, binding and gagging them.  
  
They used the diversion above to search the dark pits and stinking holes for their mother. They did not at first find her, and grew increasingly desperate. They had so far not called out for fear the remaining Orcs would set up an alarm. Finally, Elladan dared to speak their mother's name. "Celebrian! Mother! Where are you? It is Elladan, and Elrohir. Mother, please, help us find you." Elladan's voice seemed hoarse and rough.  
  
At last Elrohir thought he heard something. Faint came their mother's voice in the blackness. They followed it and at last found her. There were several Orcs guarding her cell but they did not live long enough to know what fell spirits came upon them in the dark. Celebrian was chained to the wall, weak and bitterly wounded. Elrohir smote the irons that held her so hard sparks flew and the stone wall split.  
  
Elladan carried their mother tenderly from that dark place. Celebrian spoke but little. They met several parties of Orcs hurrying up to join the battle at the tunnel entrance. Elladan was hampered from fighting while carrying Celebrian, for she was too weak to walk. Elrohir fought like one possessed and dead Orcs piled round about them.  
  
Finally the brothers neared the entrance. The Lorien Elves had slaughtered the attacking Orcs and their corpses fairly blocked the tunnel. The warriors helped clear a way for the brothers to exit from the Orc den. More Orcs could be heard coming to join the fight from deeper levels. Elladan and an escort of a dozen warriors went back to the Golden Wood with their mother. Elrohir stayed to fight with the rest of the Lorien contingent.  
  
The Elves of Lothlorien had lost many of their number over the years to Orc raids in the Mountains and now they took full payment for what had been taken from them. The Elves, led by Elrohir, ranged back through the tunnels at will and killed every Orc they met. At last, all the Orcs in the area were dead or driven so far into the deeps the Elves could not find them. By Elrohir's order, the corpses were dragged out of the tunnels and piled in a huge mound in the rocks of the Pass.  
  
Elrohir was the last to leave. It was dark outside. He stood under the stars and thought he would never be clean of the stench of blood, death and Orc refuse. His eyes seemed to have no light in them as he gave the order for the corpses to be burned. With the fire still burning in warning, the Elves mounted and left the Mountain.  
  
By ways that Elrohir had never understood, Galadriel could send word at need to Elrond without messengers. She summoned Elrond this way now. In less than two weeks, Celebrian's husband was at her side, healing her with all his considerable wisdom and skill. Celebrian did recover bodily and for a time, Elrohir thought all would be well. But his mother was not the same. She did not laugh or even smile, no matter what her family did to lighten her heart. Even Arwen, when she arrived, did not change Celebrian's sad and somber mood.  
  
All her children remained close at hand for some months in Lorien, wanting to heal their mother's spirit. Their father spent many hours holding Celebrian close while they sat in Galadriel's garden, the only place Celebrian would go outside her room. But then she stopped even going to the garden.  
  
One day Elrond came from his wife's room looking far older than before. He called his children together. When they arrived, Galadriel and Celeborn also were there, silently holding hands. Elrond announced he would escort Celebrian to the Grey Havens and she would take ship to the West, the only place she would find peace from the horrible memories of her captivity. All the pleading and arguing made no difference. Elrond would not let his children continue to bother Celebrian when she had made her decision.  
  
But that night, Elrohir went to his mother's room in hopes of talking to her one last time, and saw his father and mother together. Elrond was kneeling beside Celebrian and weeping bitterly while Celebrian held his head and shoulders in her lap. Elrohir had never before seen his father cry. He must have made some sound for Celebrian looked up. Elrohir saw only that she wept no tears over his husband's grief. He did not see the infinite sadness and helplessness in her eyes. He turned and left without speaking.  
  
The family traveled back to Rivendell in easy stages through the southern Gap of Rohan, avoiding the Misty Mountains. Several weeks later, Elladan and Arwen accompanied Elrond to see Celebrian off to the Grey Havens, but Elrohir refused to go. When his father returned, Elrohir saw a new sadness and reserve settle over Elrond's countenance. It would remain there for as long as Elrond abided in Middle Earth.  
  
And Elrohir swore he would not risk a love so consuming that when it failed, it could slay without killing, leaving the survivor little better than a wraith.  
  
So he locked away his newfound love for Eloessa and tried to avoid her. He managed successfully for many years, until last winter in Rivendell. There they met again. He had seen Eloessa's feelings for him kindle and then burn brightly. His own love had blazed up in response and he was helpless before it.  
  
But his old fear of surrendering his heart to the keeping of another had cast shadows over his mind. He knew he could not accept her offering of love unless he returned it fearlessly and in full measure. Until that time, he thought it kinder to give Eloessa no encouragement in her feelings.  
  
Then word had come of her injuries. At the thought of losing her before they had made a life together, his fear of being hurt vanished like smoke. He had ridden to Lorien to confess his love and protect Eloessa from the danger threatening the Golden Wood. 


	10. Meetings in the Dark

MEETINGS IN THE DARK PART TEN  
  
So here he was, hiding like the thief in the night his grandfather had accused him of being. He hoped his grandparents would eventually understand. Preferably before his wedding day.  
  
He had approached Eloessa's talan from behind. He planned to use his rope to climb up the tree upon which the talan rested, and avoid the guard. The guard would change at moonrise, and he would make his approach during the short time of inattention during the change. That is as far as his plan went. The rest depended on Eloessa.  
  
He hid behind a smaller tree to the north of Eloessa's talan. He had a clear view of the rear and could still see the base of the spiral stair where the guard stood. It appeared the change of guard was about to occur, for several soldiers stood at the bottom of the stair.  
  
Then shadowy movement in the branches several feet below the windows of the talan caught his attention. A bulky figure moved quickly down what must have been a rope of some kind and then dropped softly to the ground, belying its apparent size. Elrohir, his mind dark with fury that someone dared violate the sanctity of Eloessa's home, waited until the figure moved in his direction. Elrohir lunged out and grabbed the cloaked form, putting his dagger to the throat of the struggling figure. "Speak quickly your purpose in being here, or my knife will find its sheath in your throat." He said in a fierce whisper.  
  
Suddenly, the hood fell back, revealing the face Elrohir most longed to see. His knife dropped unheeded from his hand. Eloessa's eyes were wide with fear and then narrowed in recognition. "Elrohir, what are you doing here?" she cried. Another time, he might have noticed the thread of despair in her voice.  
  
But seeing her luminous skin in the moonlight, her full lips parted in her distress, he could no longer help himself. He had waited centuries for this moment. He cupped her cheek with his hand and drew her face near to his. Slowly, deliberately, he sought her trembling mouth. At once he drank in the sweetest taste he had ever known. His tongue teased her lips seeking her willing participation. She sighed as if releasing a great burden and leaned into him, her lips parting in welcome. He felt her draw closer, her excitement rising as the kiss deepened. Her hands came up to entwine themselves in his hair as if she would never let him go.  
  
Passion flooded him, sweeping all thought before it, leaving behind only sensation. He gladly abandoned himself to it. His hand trailed to her breast and unerringly found the sensitive nipple through her gown. He stroked it lovingly, reverently. He gently cupped the fullness of her breast in his hand and bent down to kiss it.  
  
Suddenly Eloessa jerked away from Elrohir, ending the embrace. Elrohir was disoriented a moment and clutched Eloessa closer to prolong their pleasure. But something was not right. She had not the slender figure he expected. His brain struggled to blend expectation and truth. He stumbled back a step, seeing her figure in the unmistakable shape of advanced pregnancy. "Eloessa.What is this? What happened to you? A child?" He cried, bewildered.  
  
His blank look of shock fulfilled Eloessa's worst fears. She saw not just shock but revulsion in his confused response. Passion that had consumed her just moments ago fled before panic and despair. "Oh don't look at me, please don't look at me like that! I have to go. I have to get away," she cried. She turned and began to run away from him.  
  
Elrohir stood in surprise for several moments and then took off after her. He did not know what had happened, but he was not going to let her get away. Still, she moved quickly for all her ungainly shape. She also wore an elven cloak, and proved difficult to see in the gloom of the wood. "Eloessa come back! I love you. Please don't run away from me," he called.  
  
Suddenly, seven or eight guards with bows drawn and arrows pointed straight at him stepped out of the forest to surround him. They encircled him, coming between him and Eloessa. Elrohir started to move through them, saying curtly "Let me pass. I must find Lady Eloessa."  
  
The guards did not move and two of them brought their arrows directly to his throat. "What is this madness? Let me pass I say! Lady Eloessa needs my help." His hand went to his sword in warning. "Who is your captain?" he said when still none of the guards moved aside.  
  
"I am their captain", said a familiar voice. Haldir stepped into the circle of guards. "I think I will ask the questions this time." The Elf's voice was tight with fury. "Why are you abroad in the night, Lord Elrohir? Why do I find you outside Lady Eloessa's talan and the Lady missing? Did you come to steal her away?" Elrohir stepped forward in anger, but the deadly arrows at his throat stopped him.  
  
Haldir walked over to him, pulled Elrohir's head back and put his face close to Elrohir's. "A son of Lord Elrond and you stoop to having others spy for you in the land of your mother." Haldir said with contempt.  
  
"You used me to gain information." A knife appeared in Haldir's hand, pricking the vulnerable skin under Elrohir's jaw. "I will make sure you do not get the chance carry out your treachery against Lorien!"  
  
A voice rang out from the trees above. "Lay down your arms, all of you. Master Haldir is in our sights. He will be dead before you even find us to take aim. Let Lord Elrohir go, March Warden. He means no harm to the Golden Wood." Elrohir realized his friends must have followed him to keep him out of trouble. Sorry to disappoint you lads, he thought grimly.  
  
But Haldir did not release his hold. The captain called out. "Why should I listen to you, Glorfindel? Trust the honor of a spy? I would sooner trust an Orc. Lord Celeborn would be in his rights to execute me on the spot if I let you all go and danger came to Lorien".  
  
"To abuse your trust when I was a guest was wrong." Glorfindel sounded apologetic. "But do not do anything you will regret. As you serve your Lord, so I serve mine, Haldir. I promised Lord Elrond I would bring his son back safe and sound." Glorfindel's tone turned deadly. "And I say, let him go now". In refusal, Haldir pressed the knife deeper into Elrohir's throat.  
  
Suddenly, another voice above cried, "Onoril, no!" and an arrow flew out of the darkness to lodge in Haldir's shoulder. Haldir cried out and tumbled backwards to the ground. Elrohir drew his sword and placed the tip against the March-Warden's chest. The circle of guards drew back but the arrows remained pointed at Elrohir.  
  
He knelt down warily, keeping an eye on the guards. He checked and saw Haldir was still breathing and that he was cursing, faintly, from the pain. Elrohir heaved a sigh of relief and called out. "Glorfindel, he still lives!"  
  
Elrohir stood and spoke to the guards, sword still drawn. "Your captain is wounded. He needs care. I do not wish any injury to Lothlorien, but I will not be hindered in my search for Lady Eloessa." A deep sense of fear for her had been growing in his mind throughout the confrontation. "She is in danger and I must find her. Decide now if you aide me or not."  
  
There was a tense silence. The arrows remained drawn and Elrohir prepared to break through the circle. Then came the voice he least wanted to hear. "Put down your weapons at once! All of you." Lady Galadriel walked regally into the midst of the standoff. "Elrohir put away your sword and call your men down from the trees!"  
  
Galadriel appeared tall and imposing and seemed to illuminate the clearing with a cold silver light. "Have you all run mad? Elves have not spilled the blood of one another in over three thousand years."  
  
She stared hard at each one gathered there. "I saw the Kinslaying at Aqualonde and lived under the Doom of the Noldor in consequence. You have no conception of what you risked here tonight!" The soldiers put their bows aside in shame. Elrohir lowered his sword but did not put it away.  
  
"Elrohir, I hold you responsible for the actions of your men. As I will hold Haldir responsible." She looked at her grandson coldly. "But now we must find Eloessa. Explanations can wait," Galadriel could sense the terrible confusion and worry emanating from Elrohir. She sympathized but had no time for it.  
  
"Eloessa is in terrible danger. I can feel it. But not from one thing only." Galadriel shook her head and said very softly. "All outcomes appear ill."  
  
She then said aloud "Elrohir, take your men and search toward the docks. I spoke with Calmae when I learned Eloessa was missing. Calmae said they were to meet on the dock before dawn and then go away."  
  
Elrohir looked at his grandmother his eyes full of questions, and regrets, then turned and set off toward the Anduin River. Glorfindel dropped from the tree above, bowed deeply to Lady Galadriel and ran after Elrohir, followed by Erestor and Onoril.  
  
Once her grandson's men were gone, Lady Galadriel turned to the remaining soldiers. "Orophin," she said to a nearby guard, "have Haldir taken to the healers. Then take the rest of the men and search for Lady Eloessa near the stables. She is upset and frightened, that is why she is trying to run away. Don't hurt her, but for her own safety, she must be stopped." The guards hastened to obey.  
  
Soon Lady Galadriel stood alone in the clearing. She walked over to where Haldir had lain. A pool of blood was there. She stood and watched as the blood turned from red to black, soaking into the soil of Lothlorien. 


	11. Endings

ENDINGS  
  
PART ELEVEN  
  
Eloessa ran blindly from Elrohir for several minutes. She expected him to catch up to her at any moment because she was absurdly easy to track, blundering through the forest like a panicked boar. But she did not hear any sounds of pursuit. She did not know whether to be grateful or not. She finally stopped to catch her breath. Thoughts immediately clamored for attention in her mind.  
  
That kiss! It had been shocking.and wonderful. She had never felt that way before. Elrohir had seemed as passionate in his response as she. But he didn't love her, did he? Or had she actually heard him say that he loved her as she ran away? But his reaction had been everything she feared; he had been horrified and revolted at the sight of her. Her thoughts whirled in exhausted confusion.  
  
In the end, it didn't really matter if he loved her or not. This child she carried guaranteed there was no future for them. Once Elrohir found out the details of her shame and how she had conceived in spite of being violently attacked, he would never have her as his wife. She would never let him be that noble, anyway.  
  
She began to run again, only to be brought up short by a sharp pain in her back, like the one in her bedroom earlier. She dropped to her knees in the soft earth, unable to breathe as wave after wave of pain washed over her. She struggled to gain control over the pain and get to her feet, but to no avail.  
  
Then she remembered Calmae's voice from their endless conversations in the winter evenings. "Don't try to be master of this process. I know you, my lady. That will be your first instinct and you will lose." Calmae's eyes twinkled but she had continued seriously. "Your body has a task to complete, will you, nil you. You cannot control this. And there will be pain. You must breathe through the pain and try to ride along on the crest of it. That way you will move with it yet not be overwhelmed by it."  
  
Eloessa tried to calm down and follow that advice now. She let the sound of the wind through the leaves and all the quiet night sounds of the forest fill her up like an empty vessel. She drew strength from the soft soil of Lorien beneath her fingers. She breathed in and out evenly and she could feel her heartbeat in the silence. Gradually the vice of pain that twisted her lower back into a rock-hard knot released her. She was able to stand at last.  
  
She knew now she would not be able to make it all the way to the docks on the Anduin on foot. She needed another way. She turned away from the river and started a slow but steady walk toward the stables. She would have to ride.  
  
What should have taken only thirty minutes took her over an hour, because she had to stop again as another surge of pain took her, this time in the belly. She sank into the bushes to ride it out. By some unknown instinct, this time her breathing was quick and short, like a small hunted animal. The duration was shorter than last time, but more intense. She did not know it, but while she lay hidden, caught by her inner tumult, Lady Galadriel's guards passed by, having found nothing in the stables when they searched it. They now fanned out in ever increasing circles, looking for Eloessa.  
  
Finally she made it to the stable. She could see a guard posted at the entrance. She recognized him as Orophin, Captain Haldir's lieutenant. He was alert and would not be easy to get around. She was frustrated, in pain and determined to get out of Lorien, away from Elrohir.  
  
Vesta, her mare, was in the stable. Eloessa wished now she had asked that Vesta be put in the paddocks behind the stables for exercise. The paddocks were easily approached out of sight of the guard. But there were other horses in the paddocks tonight. She could see at least four of them faintly in the moonlight. She looked back at the guard. Yes, it might work.  
  
She slowly circled around through the trees to the first paddock gate. She unlatched it, slipped through and picked up a saddle blanket draped over the fence. She suddenly started waving it at the horses peacefully standing in the pen. They shied away, whinnying loudly, and headed for the open gate. She ran after them a short distance, making sure they ran away from the stable. She peeked around the corner and saw Orophin look up, startled. "Oi! What is that? Come back!" He took off running after the horses.  
  
Eloessa wasted no time. She slipped in the back entrance of the stable that faced the paddocks. She did not bother with saddle and bridle for the short journey to the docks. Vesta knew her ways and responded to hand and voice signals. She did have to stop at a mounting block, using time she couldn't afford to heave herself up on Vesta's back. Then she kicked her heels into Vesta's sides. "Run, love, run!" Her hands fisted in Vesta's mane, Eloessa flew out the open front stable doors and down the path to the River.  
  
It was ten miles from the stable to the River docks on the main path. She decided to circle north on a little used trail to escape any attention. But it would take longer and dawn would soon be upon them. Eloessa hoped Calmae was there already. She wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to give birth in a boat, as another pain swelled within her. Vesta ran on through the dark.  
  
Finally, Eloessa looked up and saw the great silver band of the River in the distance. She was almost there. There were lanterns lit on the docks. Calmae must be there, then. Though she took a great risk in having so many lights. She would attract attention they did not want or need. Suddenly Eloessa saw figures moving about the dock. None of them looked like Calmae. One of the figures gave a shout. Eloessa had been spotted!  
  
Eloessa shifted her weight and shouted encouragement to Vesta. The horse changed direction to run parallel with the bank. Guards began to run toward her, taking up the cry. "There she is! Stop her!" Eloessa wondered wildly when she had become so very dangerous.  
  
Eloessa took her horse into the forest, away from the path and along the bank of the river. The ground was full of bushes and fallen limbs. Eloessa saw ahead a downed tree that lay in their way. She made a decision and set Vesta at the barrier. The mare gathered her muscles to jump. Suddenly a soldier burst out of the undergrowth right in front of the horse as she left the ground. Vesta, well trained, struggled valiantly to miss the man. She twisted in mid-air. Eloessa, her center of gravity completely different than the last time she had tried a jump, slipped sideways off the mare's back. Vesta tried now to compensate and keep her rider on.  
  
But Vesta landed wrong and fell, rolling over on her side, trapping her beloved mistress underneath. Oblivion rushed up to meet Eloessa and she embraced it gladly.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
Elrohir had searched the forest all the way to the docks. Glorfindel, Erestor and Onoril had fanned out and methodically searched beside him, so that they would not miss where Eloessa had gone.  
  
Elrohir's mind whirled with unanswered and unanswerable questions. Eloessa was pregnant, that was clear enough. But how, or rather, why? And, most importantly, who was the man Eloessa had conceived a child with? Did she love him?  
  
He struggled with the larger issues provoked by the mystery surrounding what happened in the mountains. Why the terrible conspiracy of silence? How did this all relate to the threat Lord Elrond had sensed?  
  
He reached the dock first and scouted the area thoroughly. She was not here. What had Lady Galadriel meant when she said the dock was "where they were to meet"? Who was Eloessa supposed to meet?  
  
He thought back to the kiss they had shared. She seemed to enjoy it. He had thought she was showing her love but how was he to know? Perhaps she was always that passionate when she kissed a man.  
  
But then he shook his head as he paced along the dark waters of the Anduin. The woman who had confessed her love in the face of his rejection had truly loved him. He touched her token next to his heart. And he had thrown it away. Perhaps he had no right to complain that she sought solace elsewhere.  
  
She must have started another relationship very quickly, he thought, thinking of Eloessa's round shape. He did not know a great deal about pregnancy but her size seemed to indicate the event was imminent. She should not be alone in the woods in her condition. Even in Lorien, she could get in trouble and be far from help.  
  
Elrohir called to Glorfindel to bring the men and join him. "Wait here on the dock and watch for Lady Eloessa. Erestor and Onoril will search north along the bank. I will go south." He turned back to his father's friend. "She is precious to me. Call out if you see her but do not frighten or touch her."  
  
Elrohir realized as he said it that she was precious to him. He still loved her. He did not know what choices she had made or what she was running from. But if she would still have him, he would honor and love her through all the ages of Middle Earth. If she truly loved another, and Elrohir was sure she was safe, he would respect whatever decision she made.  
  
He walked along the bank but saw no sign of Eloessa or anyone else. He had gone some distance when he heard distant sounds in the direction of the docks. He headed back at a trot. As he approached, he saw the Lorien guards had arrived, some on horseback. Among them were the guards of Haldir's unit. He recognized Haldir's second in command. Orophin, he thought the name was. He was talking heatedly to Glorfindel. The soldier's words carried over the water while Elrohir was still some distance away, faint but discernible.  
  
"She started a diversion by setting some of the horses loose. I chased them at first, but then I saw her riding in this direction. I caught a mount and came straight here. I did not meet her on the road so she must have circled to the north to avoid pursuit. If she was coming to the dock she should be here any time." Orophin reported, peering into the darkness.  
  
He gestured to one of his guards. "Rendil, take some men and spread out both ways along the banks. Be ready for her when she comes. She'll be mounted. Try to cut her off and drive her back this way." The men set out immediately to follow the lieutenant's orders before Elrohir could get close enough to stop them.  
  
At last, Elrohir ran up, lunged at Orophin and grabbed him by the throat. "She is a pregnant woman in trouble, you fool! Not a criminal to be tracked and captured. Try to cut her off while she is mounted and she may fall and injure herself! How will you explain that to Lady Galadriel?" Elrohir threw the soldier to the ground. His eyes were wide with astonishment.  
  
"Get out there and call off your men to the north. She'll see them from miles away with all these lanterns and never come near the place." Elrohir turned to Glorfindel. "Take Erestor and Onoril. Round up those guards to the south and get them out of sight and away from Eloessa."  
  
Glorfindel and Orophin hurried off to carry out their instructions. Once they left, the night grew quiet. Only the constant muted roar of the Anduin broke the silence. Elrohir tensely waited. Suddenly a cry went up from one of the men to the north. Eloessa was coming!  
  
But Orophin either had not gotten the new order to his men, or they hadn't understood it. Several men set off in pursuit of the figure on the grey horse Elrohir recognized as Eloessa. Elrohir started to run, too. He saw Eloessa skillfully change direction to ride parallel to the bank and elude the chase. He admired her horsemanship but knew this would take her over rough ground. He ran faster.  
  
Elrohir was shouting at the men and Eloessa both to stop. He could hear Orophin ordering his men to stop now, too. But the soldiers were like dogs on the scent and in their shouts of encouragement to each other, they did not hear the order to halt.  
  
Elrohir now reached the underbrush into which the chase had led. He plunged into it and ran as fast as he could, leaping fallen branches, ducking thorny vines. The foliage was thick and for a moment he lost sight of Eloessa and the men. He heard a soldier cry out "Stop!" and then a woman's scream.  
  
Elrohir's heart thudded once, twice, heavily in his chest and he stopped running, without meaning to, as if by doing so he could prevent whatever had just happened from becoming real. Then, moving again, he entered a clearing to see Vesta struggle to her feet, riderless. On the ground, lay Eloessa, unmoving.  
  
Elrohir did not remember getting from where he was standing over to Eloessa's side, but suddenly he was looking down at her too-pale face. He listened for several terrifying seconds before he heard her breathing. He had to slow his own racing heart to hear it.  
  
When he did, he was dismayed. For it was moist, uneven breathing. After a lifetime spent in battle, he knew this likely meant she was bleeding inside, perhaps into her lungs. He wiped a little blood from her mouth and knew she needed help immediately. "Eloessa, my love. Hold on. The Lady will heal you. Just stay with me." He pleaded.  
  
He looked up to see Glorfindel had arrived, holding the reins of a mount, as if his companion had known he was needed. "Ride to Lady Galadriel like you have never ridden before, my friend. Bring her back, and a litter to bear Eloessa to a place of healing. She is too hurt to be moved otherwise."  
  
Glorfindel noted the extreme pallor and shallow breathing of the beautiful woman in his friend's arms, but said only, "I will bring her straight away. Do not give up hope. Lady Eloessa is strong and valiant in spirit." With that he sprang to his mount and galloped out of the clearing. A gray morning fog drifted across the River Anduin and settled over the forest, cloaking the rider from view.  
  
Elrohir turned back to Eloessa and tried to make her a little more comfortable by straightening her twisted limbs. As he did so, he noticed deep ripples of movement across her swollen belly. The baby! He had forgotten about it for a moment. The fall had probably brought on her birthing pains. Glorfindel's errand was doubly urgent, then.  
  
Onoril approached bearing thick dry blankets for Eloessa. "Here, my lord. The dawn is chilly and the lady needs to be warm until help arrives." He offered the coverings as some apology for his hasty arrow earlier in the evening.  
  
Elrohir acknowledged the contribution and the apology with a nod. "Thank you Onoril. Would you make a fire now? I don't want to move Lady Eloessa any more than I have to." Onoril nodded and quickly made up the fire, seeming relieved at being able to do something useful.  
  
Erestor came and made a soft pallet of the blankets for Eloessa by the fire. He then helped Elrohir carefully move her to it. Eloessa moaned but did not regain consciousness. Elrohir froze in anguish over her pain. "I would do anything to take this hurt upon myself, anything." Elrohir touched his lips to the soft golden hair, and lovingly smoothed the tangled strands away from her face.  
  
Onoril went to stand with the other soldiers near the path to peer anxiously into the mist for the return of Glorfindel and Lady Galadriel. No one spoke. All the ordinary early morning sounds seemed suffocated in the fog as they waited.  
  
Elrohir felt as though he was in a nightmare from which he could not wake. Eloessa's breathing became fainter. He wished he had his father's gift of healing. He cursed the fate that forced him to do nothing but wait endlessly for help that seemed to never come. He heard a sound and looked up eagerly, but it was only Erestor. He had something in his hands.  
  
"I know that your father uses this often in his medicines," the stern- visaged Elf said. "I am no herb master, but I think this is athelas. Do you recognize it?" He held out a few stems and green leaves.  
  
Elrohir smiled and said gratefully, "Yes, it is athelas. I do not know how to apply it in the way that will be most useful to Eloessa, for her injuries are internal. But get a pot from one of the soldier's packs and boil water to put the plants in. That may help a little."  
  
Elrohir put his hand on the arm of the older Elf. "Thank you, my dear friend." He said. "My father is fortunate to have you as a counselor."  
  
Erestor prepared the athelas as instructed. The clean, crisp scent of the mixture drifted across the clearing, acting as a balm to the souls of all those gathered to watch over Lady Eloessa. Eloessa also seemed to rest a little easier. But she continued to whimper and moan every few minutes, without ever waking.  
  
"The child is coming," Elrohir said to the other Elf. "But she has other injuries, besides. Will she be strong enough to deliver the babe?"  
  
Erestor shook his head and gripped Elrohir's shoulder to lend some comfort. "I do not know. Talk to her and reassure her. Surely your love will give her strength."  
  
There was no sound in the clearing except the soft loving murmurs of Elrohir to the woman in his arms. The morning sun rose higher, chasing away the dawn's misty grayness. The air warmed and the sky was a pale winter blue, clear and cloudless. Winter birds sang in the branches of the trees, foretelling the return of their summer brothers and the coming of spring.  
  
"Listen, love." Elrohir whispered. "Hear the birds? Soon it will be spring in Lothlorien. We will sit in the woods and watch the world recreate itself around us. You will hold the baby and I will hold you. Nothing will harm either of you while you are in my arms, sweeting, I promise. I promise." Elrohir laid his lips gently on Eloessa's forehead and wept. 


	12. Beginnings

BEGINNINGS  
  
PART TWELVE  
  
  
  
Onoril heard the sound of pounding hooves first. He shouted from the path. "They are coming! Glorfindel and Lady Galadriel are coming!" Quickly, the horses passed Onoril by and raced into the clearing.  
  
Galadriel reined her horse to stop just feet away from Eloessa. Erestor moved to help her dismount then led her horse away to care for it. Glorfindel rode up immediately after. An older woman seated behind his saddle gripped him about the waist. Glorfindel swung his leg over his horse's neck and dropped easily to the ground. Then he lifted Calmae from his horse and led her over to where Eloessa lay.  
  
Other riders carrying supplies dismounted a short distance away and awaited further orders from Lady Galadriel. She and Calmae kindly but firmly dismissed Elrohir and examined Eloessa. Elrohir drew aside but only a few feet. He watched their ministrations anxiously. Galadriel and Calmae conversed in voices too low to be overheard.  
  
Galadriel stood and gestured to one of the servants who had accompanied her. He ran over to receive her instructions. He nodded, then moved toward the supplies, calling to the other workers as he went.  
  
Quickly the servants erected a pale blue pavilion over the site where Eloessa lay. It had four walls with a hole in the top at the center so it could be kept warm by a brazier that Calmae now lit. Eloessa was gently moved to a small camp bed that had been hastily assembled for her from the stores Galadriel brought.  
  
Galadriel drew Elrohir outside the tent while Calmae performed a more extensive examination of Eloessa.  
  
"From what Glorfindel told me of Eloessa's injuries, it sounded as if she was too ill to be moved. So I brought the house of healing to Eloessa." Galadriel said. "Calmae is the finest healer of women and most knowledgeable midwife in Lothlorien. For all her sins in this matter, she is the best one to care for Eloessa. She loves her dearly. Together we will do all that we can for Eloessa."  
  
Elrohir could contain himself no longer. "Will she live?" Nothing in the millennia of his existence had ever mattered as much as the answer to that question.  
  
Galadriel was silent for a moment. "I do not know Elrohir. She is far- gone along a path from which few return. We will do our best to bring her back. The rest will be up to her. And maybe to you."  
  
"I love her." He said simply. "There is nothing I would not do for her."  
  
"And what about the child?" Galadriel said. "Would you accept the child wholly and completely, reserving nothing of your love and protection? A child that is not yours?" She insisted.  
  
Elrohir gazed steadily into the eyes of his grandmother. "I love the mother with all my soul. The child will have my heart and my protection. I swear it." Galadriel looked upon him and saw the nobility and greatness of the Noldor in his face, transformed by his love for Eloessa.  
  
"I know what price an oath can exact on the unwary oath-taker," she said. "Think before you swear."  
  
Elrohir knelt before her and held his sword upright before his face. He swore solemnly. "I swear an oath before Manwe and the Valar that the child of Eloessa will always have my heart to cherish him and my strong arm to defend him."  
  
There was silence in the clearing for several moments as if the forest bore testimony to the promise. Then he breathed out heavily and stood once more. "This all supposes that the father is not going to play a part in the future." He looked at Galadriel. "Tell me what really happened to her."  
  
His grandmother said bluntly. "Eloessa was raped in the mountains by a soldier. She managed to kill him while defending herself. We think he was from Dunland. We know nothing else of him yet, except that he was an Atani, a Man. I do not know how or why, but unlike other Elven women who suffered in this way, Eloessa conceived a child."  
  
Elrohir cried out in anguish at this news. "What curse did he cast upon her that she should suffer so? I know she did not desire a child from such a union."  
  
"I believe that. I am glad you do, too." Galadriel smiled a little. "For Eloessa's sake, it is important that you hold her blameless in this."  
  
"But the child was conceived out of an evil and violent act between a Man and a member of the Eldar." She pointed out. "The consequences of that union are likely to be far-reaching. For some reason, I cannot see the end of this road. The child's fate is hidden from me."  
  
Galadriel took her grandson's hand in hers. "Lord Celeborn worries that the child might be turned to the Shadow. The fell influence of the father may be felt far into the future."  
  
Elrohir frowned and said. "You suppose much from the birth of one small baby. Many children have foolish or evil parents and grow up to be neither. I refuse to believe a child of Eloessa could choose to serve the Darkness, no matter who the father is."  
  
"Now," he said, "I want to see how she fares. The rest can wait." Elrohir did not take a proper leave of his grandmother, but turned on his heel and walked back into the pavilion.  
  
Galadriel watched Elrohir walk away. "Perhaps we duel with shadows," she conceded to herself. Then she looked off into the woods. "And perhaps the Shadow duels with us."  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Galadriel pulled aside the flap of the pavilion and entered the dim, warm interior. Calmae looked up when she entered, stood and walked over to her. The nurse said in a low voice. "She has bleeding in the belly from the fall. It will be dangerous enough for the baby to be born while she has such injuries. But the child will not come and she is getting weaker. She must wake and fight or we will lose them both."  
  
Calmae watched Elrohir, seated next to Eloessa's bed, kiss the back of the limp hand he held. She looked meaningfully at Lady Galadriel. "My lady, it is time."  
  
"It will be at great cost to her, and to him.I hope the effort will be enough." Galadriel said. She moved to Eloessa's bed.  
  
Elrohir looked up at her in anguish. "Please help us."  
  
Galadriel took the hand of her grandson and laid it together with Eloessa's hand on top of her swollen stomach. "You must find her." She said to Elrohir's puzzled look.  
  
Galadriel chanted words softly in Quenya that Elrohir had never heard before. The words were of such antiquity he had trouble making them out. Something about a journey into oblivion.before the words died away, Elrohir plunged into a suffocating darkness such as he had never known.  
  
The darkness had a physical weight that was intensified by an overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness. Elrohir felt as though he might drown in it and be lost forever. He struggled to make sense of where he was and what had happened.  
  
"Find Eloessa. Bring her back." Elrohir heard his grandmother's voice. Yes, yes he would find her if he could. But where was she? What was this place?  
  
He wondered if it could be the Halls of Mandos, the place where Elven souls awaited the Final Change of the World. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, he knew it was not.  
  
He had sensed it from the beginning but was only now realizing the truth. He had joined Eloessa in the well of oblivion into which she had fallen in her torment over what had happened to her.  
  
"Eloessa, my love." He called out in void. "Can you hear me? I know the truth and it doesn't matter. I will always love you and the babe.please come back to me." But there was only silence in the darkness.  
  
Then he began to be buffeted by waves of pain and fear so violent he felt he must go mad. He cried out in despair.  
  
Suddenly, he saw glimpses of a dark sky, blotted out at intervals by a leering face covered in a wild beard. He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating. Terror like he'd never known swamped his ability to reason or fight. Then came blinding pain and darkness.  
  
"The legends say it is death for a Man to lay unbidden with an Immortal. Yet I have done this thing."  
  
Elrohir heard the voice in the darkness. Rage, violation, and hate swelled together like a great red tide.  
  
"The legends are true."  
  
He could feel the sword in his hands. He felt its weight and heft, surprisingly heavy. He swung it with vicious satisfaction. Blood splattered across his face and hands. He could even taste some of it on his lips. Vengeance tasted hot and salty.  
  
"The legends are true."  
  
Tired. So tired. Can't think. So don't. Think. Sleep. Sleep forever. Oblivion.  
  
Elrohir was drowning again. Being pulled down in to the well of darkness. It was suffocating, yet peaceful. Nothingness beckoned him deep.  
  
He struggled upwards. Which way was up in the void? He stopped for a moment fearful he was really heading back down. Suddenly he was catapulted violently forward. He was in a room he did not recognize. Everything was terribly blurred. Distorted. A voice echoed around the chamber.  
  
A child. No! Not a child. A shameful secret. A threat and a peril. Dark laughter haunting my dreams. The Dunlending must not win! Elrohir must never know. He is lost to me now. So lost. Help me, I am lost. Somebody, please. Please find me!  
  
Elrohir sensed Eloessa's physical presence in the room, though the surroundings were too indistinct to pinpoint her. He heard the anguish in her voice and his heart answered it.  
  
"Here I am, my love." He said. "You are not lost. We are together."  
  
He perceived no response from her, but he thought he could now see a hazy outline of a figure he took to be Eloessa. He moved toward her. When he got closer, he saw that Eloessa was unkempt, sharp-featured and bent as if she were very old. She rocked back and forth on the floor muttering to herself. But she was not pregnant.  
  
"Eloessa! Speak to me. Can you hear me?" He tried to grasp her arm to get her attention but she only shook him off. When he tried to grab her again, he found his hand was somehow turned aside. No matter how hard he tried, he could not touch her. And all the while she completely ignored him.  
  
The rest of the room remained blurred and distorted. By trial and error he found what he thought to be the door. He tried to go through, only to find himself ending back up in the center of the room. He tried several times and always with the same result.  
  
He slowly came back to Eloessa. He knelt down beside her. The truth finally dawned on him. He had found her. But he was not going to be able to bring her back.  
  
He stroked her face lovingly, or rather as near to her as he was permitted. He smiled sadly. "So we will stay here together, my love. Forever, if that is your wish. I would rather be here with you than anywhere else without you."  
  
He scooted closer to her and leaned against what felt like a wall. "Perhaps one day you will realize I am here beside you. You will reach out and let me take your hand. And we will sit here and dream together, you and I." He closed his eyes and let his great weariness overtake him at last. The figure next to him regarded him for a long moment before returning to her rocking and muttering. Unaware, Elrohir dreamed on.  
  
He saw a green hill that looked down on a spot he knew well. Rivendell. On the hill, stood an Elven youth. The boy was tall but not yet fully- grown. He had a serious expression on his face. Elrohir thought the boy looked familiar. He realized suddenly that this boy had the clear light blue eyes of Eloessa, his mother, and the dark hair of his father.  
  
Then the boy turned away from Rivendell and Elrohir saw that he had a pack and was dressed for a long journey. As the boy climbed further up the hill, a faint but steady light shone about him until he disappeared in the distance. Elrohir instinctively knew the light was the love of Eloessa and himself. Somehow he knew this light would sustain and illuminate the boy even when he traveled dark and lonely paths.  
  
He gradually became aware of another figure some distance away. It was Eloessa. She appeared as she had the day he fell in love with her. Strong, beautiful and happy. She smiled at him lovingly. She said nothing but turned away and followed her son up the hill. Elrohir shouted "Eloessa", but no sound came out of his mouth. He could not follow her. "Please don't leave me here alone," he cried silently.  
  
A hand shook him awake. He was back in the room with Eloessa. The room was dim but all the details were visible and sharp. Her hair was tangled and her face smudged, but there was full awareness in her eyes. And she was touching him! He grabbed her close and kissed her.  
  
She returned the kiss but pulled away long before he was ready for it to end. She said, half in laughter and half in tears, "I love you, too. Oh, I do. But we must go back now. Hurry. There is not much time." She seemed to grimace in pain.  
  
Elrohir looked down and realized she appeared pregnant again. And the event looked imminent.  
  
Eloessa took his hand and caressed it against her cheek. "You came and found me. You did not give up even when I did. You were willing to stay even if you could never leave." She said wonderingly.  
  
"I could not condemn you to the oblivion I chose for myself. So I had to come back and live. I want us to be together. You, me and the baby, whatever comes," she said.  
  
Still holding his hand, she turned toward the door. She looked troubled. "You found me, but I am the only one who can take us out of this place."  
  
They crossed the room to the door and Elrohir noticed Eloessa's steps begin to falter. He put his arm around her shoulders. "Is it the babe? Are you in pain?" She came to a complete stop but shook her head.  
  
"I'm terrified of what's out there. I don't want to stay here. Here is only oblivion, a slow death. But out there.what if I cannot bear it? What if the baby does turn out to be the threat they all think he is?" She looked fearfully at Elrohir. "What if you decide you don't want us?"  
  
Elrohir looked at her seriously but with his love shining in his eyes. "We go or stay at your command, my lady. Either way, I will not leave you. Know that and take courage. I have faith in you, little warrior." He kissed the tip of her nose and then stepped away, allowing her to make the choice.  
  
She smiled through her tears and faced the doorway. She took one step and then another. She held out her hand to her beloved and together they stepped out into the unknown.  
  
**************************************************************************** ******  
  
Elrohir paced outside the pavilion in the woods along the bank of the Anduin. Glorfindel leaned against a tree and watched with a mixture of worry and amusement.  
  
Something strange had happened to Elrohir inside the tent this morning. When he had come out, Elrohir had been white with weariness but somehow more at peace than Glorfindel had seen him since their arrival in Lothlorien. So the older Elf ventured some gentle teasing.  
  
"Despite the fondness of expectant fathers for this tradition, it has never been proven that pacing helps the birthing process in any way." Glorfindel commented blandly.  
  
Elrohir whirled on his friend and might have said something rude, but he caught the affection and the concern in Glorfindel's face. Elrohir sighed and walked over to stand next to his friend.  
  
"You're right. It's just I love her so much. And we've come so far.and, and what in the name of Eru could be taking so long!" Elrohir turned and began to pace again.  
  
He remembered little after following Eloessa out the door in the dream until he woke slumped next to her on the bed in the pavilion. Eloessa had been awake, too and in the throes of intense labor.  
  
It had been difficult for him to watch. But he noticed that she seemed to strain to hide from him how much it hurt. He told her to stop worrying about him and do what she must to bring their son into the world safely.  
  
Eloessa and Calmae had traded doubtful looks as if they worried whether his delicate sensibilities could take it. He became irritated, but Galadriel said, "He is right. Let him stay and if he can stand it, let him help. If his strength fails him, I will have him removed like so much excess baggage."  
  
Elrohir swallowed his incipient outrage and sat back down next to Eloessa. "Hold my hand if you like and squeeze as hard as you need to. Don't worry about me." He offered his hand confidently.  
  
Then the next series of contractions hit. The vice-like grip she wrapped around his hand, and how much it hurt confounded him. And why hadn't anyone told him to take off his ring? He was sure it had been ground into his finger down to the bone. In fact, he suspected the finger might be broken. But he knew he could have withstood that. It wasn't much worse than the time he'd taken an Orc arrow in his leg, after all.  
  
Still, who would have thought a nicely brought up Elf girl knew language like that? That shook his composure a bit. And when she declared at the top of her voice that all men should be gelded with the same rusty sword, he beat a hasty retreat. Nobody seemed to notice his departure.  
  
So for the last couple of hours he had worn a new path along the Great River, hoping for the best and fearing the worst. She had seemed alert, determined and strong, if somewhat out of sorts, when he left the pavilion. Had the healing infusion Calmae gave her slowed or even stopped the internal bleeding as they hoped?  
  
Elrohir came to rest beside Glorfindel once again. "No wonder my parents waited over a hundred years between having children. It takes that long just to recover your nerve!"  
  
"If it's any comfort, your father did not handle the waiting any better. In fact, though Lord Elrond denies it to this day, he got quite faint when he heard he had twin sons. I had to make him sit down with his head between his knees and wave athelas under his nose." Glorfindel chuckled. "I kept some handy when Arwen was born, but he didn't need it that time."  
  
Elrohir laughed. "I'll have to mention that to him when we get back to Rivendell." He said thoughtfully, "I hope he will accept the rather sudden appearance of a bride and grandchild all at once. We will probably marry here in Lorien. I wonder when her brothers will get back." his voice trailed off as he heard a great moan of pain from inside the tent.  
  
He rushed forward through the flap of the pavilion. He stopped and watched in fascination as Eloessa's son made his first appearance in Middle Earth. The baby was covered in blood and a white chalky substance. He had a great deal of dark hair and seemed mightily displeased to be so rudely thrust into the wide world. Elrohir thought he looked wonderful.  
  
Then he looked at the woman he loved more than life. She was pale and her hair was tangled and sweaty. He thought she looked wonderful, too.  
  
Calmae cleaned the baby off somewhat, wrapped him in clean blankets and placed the baby in his mother's arms. Though she had little color in her face, Eloessa seem to glow with an inner radiance as she cradled her son.  
  
She seemed very tired all of a sudden, and lay back on the pillows with the baby beside her. Elrohir thought that was natural. She had worked very hard.  
  
He went over and knelt down beside her, smiling. "So we are a family at last", he said. The baby had stopped crying and was looking up at the two adults with newborn befuddlement. "What will you name him?"  
  
Eloessa looked up from her enthralled contemplation of the baby with some surprise. "I had not thought that far ahead." She was silent a moment. "Dunthalion, I think. Yes, he shall be called Dunthalion." She traced the tiny ears of her son, more rounded than Elf ears. But that did not catch her attention. "His ears are so delicate, I can see the shadow of my fingers through the skin," she said in wonder.  
  
Elrohir stroked the dark hair of his son, marveling at its softness. His son. That sounded right.  
  
He said. "When you left Rivendell, you said you left your heart in my keeping. I'm afraid I cannot give that back because I intend on keeping it forever. But I do have something to return to you." He reached inside his tunic and brought out the little leather bag that contained Eloessa's token. He put the entwined swans into her hand and closed her fingers around it.  
  
Eloessa's eyes lit with pleasure. "My mother's brooch! She left it with me before she went into the West. She said that whatever it's earthly value, its true worth lay in the love with which it was bestowed. She warned me to choose well. But my heart chose for me; unwisely, I feared. I left this with you as a sign of my love, even though I thought it would never be returned." She smiled brilliantly at him. "And now we are together."  
  
"We are even, you know. You have had my heart in your possession for over a century and now I surrender it to you willingly, unto the final change of the world." Elrohir kissed her lips sweetly, for she seemed too tired for passion at the moment.  
  
All at once, she seemed not even able to hold her head up. "Could you hold the baby for a few minutes, my love? I am so tired. I don't want to drop him." Her voice had become quite weak. "Bring Calmae to me. I think something is wrong."  
  
Elrohir, alarmed by her quick decline took the baby in his arms. He turned to find Calmae already there at his side.  
  
"Take the baby to that side of the room. I prepared a large basket with blankets for him earlier. He will likely sleep for a few hours at least." The nurse said, moving to examine her patient.  
  
Elrohir watched Calmae's face go nearly as white as Eloessa's as she checked under the sheets. Her hands came away bloody.  
  
The next space of time was a blur of Calmae and Galadriel struggling to stop Eloessa's lifeblood pouring out of her. He heard Galadriel chanting and the healing power she invoked pervaded the room.  
  
The baby in Elrohir's arms was forgotten as he watched the women battle to save the mother's life. But had anyone tried to take the small bundle of life and comfort from his arms at that moment, Elrohir would have fought them vigorously.  
  
All of time seemed suspended for Elrohir. He could not believe he and Eloessa had fought so hard to come back and be together, to deliver the baby safely and then to have it all be in vain.  
  
He heard Galadriel say "She put all her strength of self-healing into stopping the bleeding long enough to deliver the baby. She kept none back for herself. But she knew the risks and made her choice."  
  
His grandmother's voice seemed to come from far away. "We just hoped Calmae's infusions of herbs would be able to stop the bleeding afterward. But it was not to be. My heart is laid upon the ground to lose her."  
  
"Elrohir, go to her now. It will not be much longer." Galadriel put her arm around him and guided him to Eloessa's bedside.  
  
Was it just an hour ago they had been a family with a future before them?  
  
Eloessa was whiter than he had ever seen her. Her eyes were open, though, and seemed extraordinarily blue in her pale face. She smiled weakly at him. He sat down on the narrow bed and put the baby between them.  
  
She looked hungrily down at her sleepy son, memorizing his features. "All that dark hair. The young maidens will adore it when it is thick and long. Like I love yours." She brought her hand up as if to touch his hair but could not complete the gesture. Elrohir caught her hand to him and kissed it. He closed his eyes and struggled not to weep.  
  
"I think I first loved you when I knocked you off your horse. You look adorable when you are outraged." She gave a faint laugh. "But I had to grow up some before I appreciated the finer qualities, like your stubbornness and your habit of waiting until the last possible minute to declare your honorable intentions."  
  
Elrohir laughed softly despite himself, and gripped her hand tightly.  
  
Eloessa continued seriously "And your faithfulness, your honor, your deep and abiding love." She closed her eyes for a moment and was very still.  
  
Elrohir cried, "Eloessa!"  
  
After a long moment she smiled and opened her eyes. "I will wait for you in the Halls of Mandos. Do not come until you are ready, but don't be too long. I probably will not be too patient."  
  
He felt the tears escape to run down his cheeks at last. "I will be pounding on the doors demanding to be let in as soon as I arrive."  
  
"If they think your approach too bold and rude, look for a window in the back, high up. You will see me climbing down a rope I have woven of my golden hair so that I might run off with you." Eloessa's breath caught a little and she coughed. But her eyes still twinkled. "You will see. We will be together again. This time I promise."  
  
With a great effort she cuddled her son close to her. "The vision of him on the hill above Rivendell. I shared that vision with you, Elrohir. It made me realize something I should have known long ago."  
  
She looked up at him, willing him to believe and understand. "The night of the attack, I was thinking about you. I desperately wanted to be with you and have a family. I dreamed of giving you a child. I believe Dunthalion is in spirit the child we would have had. There is no evil in him."  
  
She grasped Elrohir's hand weakly. "Can you believe that? For my sake? And his."  
  
He kissed her lips gently. "Yes, I believe that. I have already sworn to protect him and cherish him all the days of his life." He then carefully laid out full length on the bed beside her. He gathered her and the baby in his arms.  
  
She smiled in relief and lay back her strength nearly spent. She was quiet for a time. Then softly, she began to sing to her son.  
  
Find your rest. Find your rest. Sweetest little one. Facing West. Ever blessed.  
  
When you rise. You will see. All of Lothlorien. Riding Papa's knee.  
  
Find your rest. Find your rest. Sweetest little one. Facing West. Ever blessed.  
  
Her voice became fainter and then trailed off. Elrohir took up the lullaby in a clear deep voice.  
  
Find your rest. Find your rest. Sweetest little one. Facing West. Ever blessed.  
  
When you rise. Take Mama's hand. And you will stand. In the Lady's garden.  
  
Calmae and Galadriel watched silently from across the room. Calmae had tears running down her face. She saw Eloessa's hand go limp and slowly fall open, the mithril brooch she held glinting softly in the dim light. There was no longer even the faintest rise and fall of breathing. Still Elrohir sang.  
  
"My lady, do you see.,"Calmae asked quietly. "Do you think he yet knows?"  
  
"Yes, Calmae," said the Lady of the Golden Wood. "He knows."  
  
Find your rest. Find your rest. Sweetest little one. Facing West. Ever blessed. Sweetest little one. 


End file.
